


Camille and Richard: The Story Continues

by OldProf1942



Series: The lives and times of Camille and Richard Bodey-Poole [2]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldProf1942/pseuds/OldProf1942
Summary: After a three year, slow motion, mating dance our heroes find themselves, MARRIED!  The perfection of the wedding  day squeezed between hurricane Elizabeth, Mount Esmee's volcanic tantrum, Parental revelations and the twelve thousand inhabitants of Saint Marie, all believing they were family.  The tale continues!
Relationships: Camille Bordey/Richard Poole, Catherine Bordey/Pierre Boulanger, Dwayne Myers/Caroline Dupre, Fidel Best/Juliette Best, Major John Poole/Millicent Poole, Selwyn Patterson/Simone Patterson
Series: The lives and times of Camille and Richard Bodey-Poole [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932577
Comments: 56
Kudos: 7





	1. The Day of the Phones

**********  
Camille basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun and the residual love and generosity of the island inhabitants whose time and efforts turned their wedding into an island festival. Looking just a bit the worse for wear her new husband padded on to the shack’s veranda. Clutching a mug full of hot dark liquid, he took a sip, looked perplexed and announced: “I don’t know if this is coffee or tea? I think all that local rum I consumed last night has totally destroyed every last tastebud!” Richard bent over with a low moan and kissed his bride. Camille smiled and stretched languorously. This was exactly why she loved him and why she wanted to be married to the most aggravating man on the island. This sense of time and place. No more doubts, uncertainties, anxieties, yearnings, or unfulfilled desires. No more of Maman’s orchestrated blind dates!! She finally had peace, tranquility, and satisfaction. She had the man who challenged her but never tried to dominate her. It was a delight to be with a man who really had no idea how attractive and sexy she found him. Freedom! No more posturing peacocks acting as if they were doing her a favor by paying attention.  
**********  
Every muscle ached; every sinew burned in rebuke for the damage he had done to his body. Five hours, and three miles of sand, people, music, dancing, food, rum, oohh the rum! Every molecule of his body had been tested and found wanting. Even after ten or more hours of sleep he felt as though he had been disassembled and put back together all wrong. How could she sit there looking so refreshed and beautiful? His memory told him that she went the same distance, ate, drank all he did, danced at least twice as much, and now sits before him the picture of health! Richard slowly lowered himself to the chair next to his bride. His body was suffering but his mind was bathed in joy and contentment. No more doubts, uncertainties, anxieties, yearnings, or unfulfilled desires. No more loneliness.  
**********  
“Are you going to be fit for duty tomorrow Richard?” Camille didn’t even try to hide the smirk on her face or in her tone of voice. “You are in need of professional party training. Maybe you should take lessons from Dwayne. He is older than you and much more experienced. But you’d better hurry. I think Dwayne is on the verge of domestication!” Once again, a smirk and giggle accompanied her advice.  
A low moan slowly escapes Richard’s lips. “Oh, woman thou art cruel. You would kick a man when he is down? I doubt that I shall ever be able to look a rum bottle’s label in the eye. I sit before you a shell, a ruin of a man, brought low by demon rum.”  
Camille reached over and smoothly, gently began to massage Richard’s extremely tight shoulders. He moaned….. He groaned….. She continued. The wonderous, healing, touch of loving hands.  
As Camille worked her magic upon him, he thought: ‘They were one. No price was too high. No sacrifice too great. If only he could know, could understand, why? Why had she chosen him? Maybe, just maybe he would never know. Maybe this was the eternal curse of being male. To never completely understand the workings of the mind of she whom you adored. Give him the most difficult murder he had it solved ‘tout suite’. A look, a glance, a word, from her and he was a picture of befuddlement.’  
“Ahh. Ohh! That feel’s sooo good. Where did you learn to do that?”  
“Maman taught me. And she learned from one of her waitresses who was a masseuse at one of the resorts.”  
“How long have you been up, luv?”  
“Just long enough to do a quick shower. Brew coffee and tea. Oh, ‘mon cher’ I got all four of our phones out of our tree safe and checked for messages. Returned calls to Maman, your mother and Simone. All is well. Everyone is ‘tres heureux’. Richard? Richard?”  
“Yes, yes, I know, ‘very happy’……….. Ahhhooohhh. That hurts so good! The old folks having a lie in as well? I imagine we taxed them past their normal limits, eh?  
“Well, ‘mon couer’ when I called at two PM, they were having brunch at ‘vue sur le volcan’. The men had played eighteen holes, and the ladies had played in the resort’s Sunday round robin tennis tourney. They had tried to include us. But we had turned our phones off!”  
“Oh god. Any work-related calls?”  
“Non.”  
“I am going to shower and shave. Hopefully, I will return a tad more civilized. I should eat and rehydrate. Why don’t you order a pizza? I’ll brew up a gallon of Earl Grey when my ablutions are complete. Oh, by the way Mrs. Bordey-Poole. I love you with every fiber in my wretched being. I truly hope you will continue to be patient and tolerant of this benighted soul you have married. I shall make every effort to be the husband you need, want, and desire.” Richard lunged to his feet and stumbled off for the bathroom. The next sound Camille heard was a soprano yowl as Richard forgot to wait for the shower water to warm.  
Camille hugged herself with glee. This was everything she had hoped marriage would be. He would continue to be a challenge. There would be bickering. There might even be some hurt feelings. But they would never quit. They had both worked too hard for too long to achieve their piece of paradise.  
Three quarters of an hour until pizza. As a good wife she must check to see if Richard needed help scrubbing his back. He had complained about how stiff and sore he was. She had discarded her blouse and shorts by the time she had reached the bath. Again, a yowl from Richard but in a decidedly lower octave. Paradise came in many forms.  
**********  
The afternoon tropical thunderheads had grown to their majestic heights and were now providing the preliminary light and sound show. To the west sheets of gray seemed to hang from the cloud base like enormous curtains. Soon Saint Marie would have its afternoon cleansing.  
Somehow the pizza was more tasteful and fragrant. The best they’d ever had. Even the accompanying ale was richer and more flavorful. Richard felt restored and rejuvenated. ‘My god what that woman could accomplish in the confined space of their tiny shower.’ Even the storm was more interesting and exciting.  
Sitting on the veranda, enjoying pizza, ale and the storm’s theatrics, Richard was startled as a lithe green figure jumped from pillar to his should. He looked, Harry looked, Camille declared: “I do believe that our ‘lovechild’ is gazing at you reproachfully. Have you attended to his dietary needs?” Richard hung his head and nodded no. Slowly rising, he and Harry trundled off to the kitchen and a reptile repast.  
Returning to the veranda Richard placed Harry’s new dinner service on the rail and returned to his own meal at the table. “There, he’s taken care of!”  
“Harry has his own tiny bowl, plate and mug?” sputtered Camille. She promptly cut a wedge-shaped piece of the tip of her own slice of pizza and placed it on Harry’s plate. “Now he has a complete meal. What’s in his tiny mug?”  
“Water with a drop or two of stale beer. If it’s a special event I might substitute a couple drops of wine. Got the set on the internet. Came with knife fork and spoon. Without opposing thumbs, the hardware’s rather useless.” Both humans burst into silly giggles. Harry placidly continued his meal.  
The evening passed quietly. A bottle of wine shared over the next hours. And the memories of the previous day. The myriad details of the ‘Sashay Parade’ and the countless happy, smiling people they had encountered.  
“Richard, you have made me happier than I thought I could ever be. I would have gone with you to England, but this is my home. I hope it can be yours as well. I love you.”  
“Camille yesterday was a revelation! Everything was perfect. I had never experienced perfection before. It all started with you and astonishingly it ended with the joyous chaos of the ‘Sashay Parade’. After we ended the evening at the firepit and threw our exhausted bodies on the bed, my last conscious thoughts were ‘Camille I love you!’ and ‘I am home!’. This is where we belong.”  
“Well, ‘mon amour’ shall we adjourn to our bed? I feel the need for a good cuddle ‘s’il vous plait’. Unless you’d rather just talk to Harry?”  
Harry spent the evening alone.  
**********  
Richard was up at his regular predawn hour. “You going rowing?” Camille’s sleep muted mumble.  
“Yes luv, be back by seven.”  
“Bring back some snapper filets for dinner, muuve oou.” Her pillow muffled declaration.  
“Muuve oou too.” Richard’s smiling reply.  
Day two of domestic bliss had begun.  
**********  
Sitting in the new, old Jeep in front of the Honore Police station, Richard observed:  
“Does everything look different, better?”  
“Oui, mon cher. Sorry, yes sir. Workday. Ahh…. One last kiss?”  
“Sergeant!”  
“Oooo, ‘monsieur’ prim and proper lives!”  
A quick peck and Police Chief DI Poole and DS Bordey joined their colleagues.  
**********  
“Congratulations!” The unison pronouncement startled Richard and Camille. Both were handed items wrapped in florist paper.  
Camille immediately tore her parcel open to reveal a dozen long stem pink roses in a cream-colored vase with a hand painted sunrise and pink tinged clouds. Camille stood frozen for a moment. Her mouth half open. The battle between professional police officer and human being raged and humanity won. The tears welled and then fell, the smile grew. Hugs and kisses ensued.  
Richard set his package on his desk. And with his back to the others, carefully and precisely opened the paper from the top like the petals of a giant flower. Dwayne and Fidel waited with apprehension; Camille looked confused. Without warning Richard barked a laugh that grew to a roar. “Perfect, absolutely perfect!” He stood aside to display a terracotta pot containing small island cacti surrounding two, foot-tall cacti with small brass plates hung by chains wrapped around them. Engraved on the plates were ‘Grumpy’ and ‘Grouchy’. Hugs and handshakes shared.  
“Gentlemen, we said no gifts.”  
“Chief, this is different. Well, this is the team. You guys made Fidel and me part of the whole wedding thing. But we been with you from the very first day. We’re kind’a different. We knew we were headed to this before you did. Right Fidel? Eh? Do I got to do all the talkin’ here?”  
“Okay. Okay. You two have been more than colleagues. You’ve both been mentors that have made Dwayne and me better officers. You created a team. You have become two people that we regard as our best friends. And now we think of you as family. So, we had to do something just from, just us. You know, the team, your friends, your work family.”  
Richard rocked back against his desk. His three colleagues watched him intensely. As the smile on his face grew, so did theirs. “Well team, I do believe it is time to do our job.”  
**********  
Turning on their computers the team looked up with same puzzled expression.  
Camille was the first to speak. “Fidel? You’re our tech genius! My email box is overloaded, my voice mail is full, and our new high-tech phone system is frozen! Mon Dieu! What’s happening?”  
“Hang on a sec, sarge. Let me see if I can do a diagnostic from my cell.” Pulling a cord from his desk and connecting his phone directly to his computer, Fidel began that frantic ‘thumb typing’ that Richard felt had to be some genetic mutation granted only to those under the age of forty.  
“It would seem that almost every phone on Saint Marie has been trying to call our station since about six am this morning.”  
“Is it a hack? Are we under some form of cyber-attack? Camille had moved over behind Fidel. “Is there anything we can do, or do we have to get the installation people back?”  
“I can’t clear the overloads. But I think I can unfreeze the system momentarily. Everybody get by a phone. When the system comes on, I believe all four phones will ring. If we answer immediately the computers should stay unfrozen and hopefully, we will find out who or what is calling. Should we try Boss?”  
“On my mark. Everyone ready?” Four phones in hand, four fingers poised to hit first flashing button. Richard proceeded: “five, four, three, two, one, go.” Fidel touches his keypad and four office phones ring.  
Six hours and seven hundred and thirty-one calls later, ‘The Day of the Phones’ finally came to a close. The four team members sat in stunned exhaustion. Every call had been essentially the same. “Congratulations; We love you; You were so beautiful/handsome; The party was fabulous; We are so happy for you;” Etc. Etc. Etc. 731 times!!!!!!  
“Camille, you do realize that our children and grandchildren will never believe this tale when we tell it.”  
“We do have witnesses, ‘mon cher’.”  
“I duno Chief. I’m here but did any of this really happen. Or is this the end results of too many years of too much rum.”  
“Speaking of rum, when we close for the day, the rum is on the Bordy-Pooles. Eh? Camille?”  
“Yes sir! Boss, Chief, 'mon petit chu'!”  
**********  
The workday was done. All they wanted was a tall cold one to slake their parched and abused vocal cords! The team reconvened at ‘King Richard’s Public House’, within the confines of the newly renamed, La Kaz. Now that Catherine and Pierre were partners, it would be known as ‘Catherine’s Bar and Bistro’. As the ‘Team” settled into their favorite corner ‘snug’ they were greeted by Marie and Pete.  
“Your Maman and Pierre are takin’ the week off. Bit of a holiday. They’re stayin’ at the Commissioner’s place along with the Chief’s folks. They’ll be huntin’ for their own beach shacks or some place to build’em. So, me and Marie are kinda in charge. Name yer poison!”  
“Four tall cold ones will do for a start.” Richard croaked.  
“Well, fetch yer mugs.” Was Pete’s curious reply.  
A beaming Fidel pointed to a series of pegs above the fireplace mantle. Hanging from center pegs were four ceramic mugs. The team rose as one and headed for the hearth. Upon closer inspection of the mugs, each had the caricature of a team member. In addition, their name in fine calligraphy was fired into the mugs surface. The artwork was superb. Suddenly Richard exclaimed: “A pub mug club!”  
“Aye yer grace.” Pete’s reply prompted a snort and a laugh from Richard. “Hand’em o’re gen’termen and lady. The first is on the house.” All placed their mugs on Pete’s tray and returned to their chairs.  
“I know I am ‘too French’, but what is a ‘pub mug club’?  
“Well luv, many centuries ago when the first public houses came into being, the plates and bowls were carved from wood, but the mugs were awfully expensive. To keep the locals from spiriting the mugs away, the landlords would make them buy their own mugs. They would engrave the owners name or ‘mark’ in the pewter and hang it above the bar. The pub might offer a discount or free snacks as an incentive to join.”  
“Where did these fabulous mugs come from. The pictures are unbelievable, ‘incroyable’!”  
“Juliette made the mugs, your vase and the brass plates on the cacti.” Fidel’s pride showed in both his voice and expression. “She has been taking art courses for several years. She has started selling on the internet and is doing quite well. She hopes to make enough so she can stay home with Rosie and any future additions. Matter of fact, she and Rosie are over visiting her auntie Dolores on Guadeloupe this week while she takes a course at the art school. They took the ferry over, yesterday.”  
“Hey Fidel, your Juliette is one fine artist. But did she have to make my fabulous killer smile go all the way round de mug? This prompted a table full of laughter over poor Dayne’s lament.  
Pete returned with their full mugs. “Needn’ any nibbles ta be goin’ wer’ yer brews?”  
“Say, Peter m’lad, would you be havin’ the fixin’s for steak and kidney pies and those fantastic chips? Eh? We’ve got a couple of bachelors with us tonight. Don’t want my team to go hungry. Throw on an extra pair for you and Marie. When they’re done, we’ll move over to the VIP table. That way you and Marie can join us and still keep an eye on things.”  
“Consider er done, guv. And thankee!”  
**********  
The team turned to their mugs, a couple of toasts and detailed examinations and humorous critiques of each other’s caricatures. The perfect end to the very strange ‘Day of the Phones’.

Just another day in Paradise.


	2. Upward and Onward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team members find themselves mired in boredom from lack of action. That is soon to change. New challenges lie ahead. Some good, some not so good. Can the team rise to the new expectations?

**********  
The month following the wedding had been remarkably quiet at the Honore Police Station. No violent crime! Even domestic disturbances had only been noise, nothing physical. It appeared the pickpockets and shoplifters were on holiday! No cons or grifters haunting the bars and alleys! Richard was starting to get annoyed. While he enjoyed having the ‘down time’ to present more formal training for his colleagues, he really felt that ‘in the field’, ‘hands on’ experience always produced the best results. They were doing more ‘street time’, but that was just community PR work. They all needed a challenge, something to, as ‘Hercule Poirot’ might advise: ‘stir and excite the leettle grey cells.’! Their boredom and attendant ennui were about to end rather abruptly.  
**********  
Richard entered the station looking distracted, concerned, maybe even disturbed. He stood with his back to his desk, hugging his battered briefcase as though it contained treasure or maybe it was simply providing comfort. The expression he wore was definitely ‘full grump’. But what did it mean? The team knew that this was a time of watchful waiting. Just as when he was about to reveal the solution to a crime. The three knew that now was not the time to ask questions. And so, they sat patiently waiting for the anticipated outburst.  
“I have just spent three hours with Commissioner Patterson.” Richard was speaking in a very quiet, controlled manner that alarmed the team. No rant, no mumble, no gesticulations, no rapping on charts; no Richard! This was as though the body of Police Chief Richard Poole was channeling the Commissioner! “We are facing many new challenges and outside pressures and influences. The Commissioner and I have full confidence that the entire team will rise to the demands that face us. I shall return in one hour and we will begin. Carry on!” With that cryptic command the Chief was out the door and gone.  
Dwayne was the first to speak. “Carry on? We weren’t doin’ nothin’; I guess that means jus’ wait?”  
“Well I need to wait with more coffee. Shall we adjourn to the staff dining room?” Camille’s sarcastic remark helped to break the tension and snap them out of their ‘shock and awe’.  
**********  
One hour later the Chief briskly enter the Honore station pulling a small two-wheel luggage dolly loaded with three document boxes. At his desk he turned to face his subordinates. “My apologies, the Commissioner wants us to be prepared for the unknown. I know, that sounds a bit, well……. insane. But somehow, I know we can do it. While I have every confidence in each of you, I need to present to the Commissioner something a bit more concrete. I have had Scotland Yard send over a series of mock tests and training guides that I devised fifteen years ago. The Yard may not have thought much of me personally, but they seemed to have approved of my work.  
**********  
“Camille, this mock test will indicate the probability of your passing the Detective Inspector exam. I have no doubts as to your abilities. You demonstrate your skills and knowledge every day. This test will accomplish three goals. One, it will serve to prepare you for the mechanics of taking the actual test. Two, it will reinforce your confidence. And thirdly it will provide me with tangible evidence that the Commissioner needs to support his confidence in the stations new DI.  
“With respect sir, have these materials been updated?” Camille was a bit hesitant in questioning her boss/husband, husband/boss, guy she slept with! ‘Oh merde!’ she thought. Professional, just be professional.’  
“Excellent question Camille. Exactly what I would expect from a top-drawer professional investigator. Every two years, with consultation of my former university flatmate ‘Sean’, I have updated both training and test materials. The last revision was just six months ago. So, we are current. I have added Saint Marie specific notes where necessary.”  
**********  
“Fidel, you’ve been on the force for over four years. You should have been a Sergeant before I even got here and be on your way to Detective Sergeant by now. I apologize, I was remiss in not putting you forward. But until recently I wasn’t sure if I was staying. Had I left; it would have been up to the new DI to decide what staff changes should be made. I let my personal concerns interfere with your professional growth. Since we are a Provincial Constabulary, we are not as tightly bound by ‘time in status’ or ‘seniority’ lists. Therefore, ability and the department’s needs take precedence. So, the mock test you will take today is for DS. I believe that you are ready, or at least very close.”  
“Boss, ah I mean sir! I’m not sure I’m ready for Sergeant much less DS, sir, I…I…I…sir.”  
“Relax Fidel, the point of this exercise is to find out where we all stand. It’s a chance to expand our horizons. Growth comes with challenge.”  
**********  
“Now then Officer Myers, I know that you have expressed quite sincerely and eloquently your desire to stay right where you are. I have no problem with that. You are as good a ‘street copper’ as I have ever had the privilege to serve with. But I need your help. Your unique help! I need you to become our ‘street mentor’. That guide for our new officers. Showing them all that is not in the manual. For that position you do need some rank, official authority. I think you have more info in your brain than you realize. Plus, those extra stripes on your shoulder boards, pay increase, ‘Sgt. Dwyane Myers’ and the three-stripe chevron painted on you official Saint Marie Police Motorcycle. All that certainly wouldn’t hurt your image and social life. Eh?”  
“Sergeant.” Dwayne frowned. “I never been good at takin’ tests. But for you chief, I’m on it. I’ll give ‘er a go!”  
**********  
“Excellent!” As Richard moved one of the boxes in front of each team members desk, he continued. “Fidel, will you please switch the phones, so they’ll all ring through to mine? Now then team, there is no preparation necessary for these mock tests. Therefore, you will be taking them now. All the exams are one hundred multiple choice questions. Darken the appropriate oval on the separate answer sheet. You have two hours to complete the tests, which will give us time to have the computer score and do a summation. That will bring us to end of shift. The drinks will be on me at Catherine’s. We can discuss the results in a relaxed and convivial environment. Ready? Start!”  
**********  
“Time! Stop!” Richard gathered the answer sheets, moved to his desk, and turned to face the three exhausted and uncertain colleagues. “I’m sorry to have sprung this upon you without warning. But the Commissioner and I want to know exactly where we all stand as we prepare to grow the island’s security establishment. We have been a most effective team for nearly three years. Our start was a bit of a rough patch. I didn’t want to stay. Camille and I didn’t want to work together. And you three all felt my methods were a bit eccentric. Yet here we are, the finest team I have ever served with in over twenty years of police work.”  
Looking past the team into middle space or maybe into the future, Richard continued. “The town councils of Honore and Port Royal plus the Island council of Saint Marie have approved a ‘head tax’ or ‘pillow fee’ as some prefer on the resort rooms and the marina slips. The councils have authorized an increase of sworn officers from four to twelve. This increase will not include me or the Commissioner. This means we are approved for one Detective Inspector, two Detective Sergeants, two Sergeants and seven Patrol Officers. We will move our unsworn four, night patrol members up to sworn status as soon as they can pass the tests. The remaining additions will be spread over the next year. This is being done in anticipation of the six new resorts and the marina at Port Royal coming online.”  
“Come now, off you go. Get us a snug at the pub. Enjoy the first round. I’ll scan these answer sheets to London and at the speed of light the computer will score, analyze and make recommendations. I’ll catch up with you in half an hour. Now, go. Go!”  
**********  
Camille, Dwayne, and Fidel sat in the snug closest to the harbor. They labored over their mugs in silence. No one seemed to know what to say.  
“Camille what did you think of the test?” Dwayne’s question was twinged with the sound of defeat.  
“I’m the worst person to ask. Even all through university, I’d take a test and have no idea how I had scored. I always got high marks. But I never knew until I saw the results posted. Sorry. I’m not much help.”  
“I just hope we didn’t disappoint the chief. Ya’ know none of us had fathers, at least ones that were there for us. The chief is kinda’, well not for you Camille I mean what with you’re bein’, you know, married and all. Dat didn’ come out right.” Dwayne had managed to talk himself into silence.  
“No, you’re right Dwayne, the boss has taken all three of us under his wing and made us better at our jobs. And even though he can be a pain, he wants us to succeed. Charlie, the previous DI was a fun guy, but he really didn’t care what we did, or who we were, or if we had any dreams or ambitions. With the boss I know I’ve got a future, a career.” Fidel sat back and stared into his mug.  
“I say, you three are the saddest lot I’ve encountered in the proverbial month of Sundays. What say you? Why so glum? My mug, my mug, my kingdom for a mug.” As if by magic Pete appeared with Richard’s mug and a pitcher to top off the rest. ‘Peter, old sod, bring us a platter of those marvelous fish and chip nibbles, and don’t forget the malt vinegar.”  
“Aye m’lord, consider ‘er done.”  
“Now then my friends, let us dispense with the gloom and doom. You three have done me proud. I feel like a proud papa. Not that I really know what a papa feels. Never been around children much. Although I did hold Rosie the day she was born. Well she did regurgitate on me though. I digress!”  
“I scanned the score sheets into my phone, transmitted them to Scotland Yard. The computer scored them, calculated the probability of you passing the real test and made recommendations regarding preparations for the next exam period.”  
“Camille, out of a potential score of 100, you scored 100!” Cheers, congratulations, and multiple mug taps. “Now then, what does the score mean? It means that if you were to take the real exam, without further preparation, you would have a 95% probability of passing. Well done Camille.”  
“Hey chief, how come as smart as she is, she don’ get 100% probability.”  
“Well Dwayne, tonight is not the night for me to explain statistics and the laws of probability. Now let us return to scores. Fidel, I gave you the toughest assignment. A jump over the Sergeant’s exam directly to Detective Sergeant. I am impressed. You scored an 81 out of a 100. This gives you a 72% probability of success. Good show lad.” More cheers and mug taps.  
“Ah Dwayne, you are the man who connects me to the street. When I was at Croydon, I took pride in knowing all the alleys and backways and the denizens of those dark corners. These were the people who knew what was going on. When I came to Saint Marie, I was the ‘fish out of water’. Oh, I was okay in the hotels and estates but on the street I was useless. You have always been my ‘go to guy’ out there. That’s why I want you to move up a notch. I need your help in training all the new people we will be adding. Dwayne, out of 100, you got………………….”  
“Chief, you’re killin’ me here!”  
“Okay, Dwayne. 99!”  
“What? Honest chief, I did not cheat! Honest.”  
“I do not doubt your veracity my friend. You would have gotten a perfect 100 had you not forgotten to erase your incorrect entry on the very first question. Well Done future Sergeant Myers.” Now the whole table rose to shake hands, hug and offer heartfelt congratulations to one and all.  
**********  
After another round and the platter of fish and chips, Richard leaned forward and confided to his team. “There is more at stake than just the growth of the police force. The Commissioner suspects we are in the midst of an attempt to radically remake and take control of the island of Saint Marie. He believes that outside forces have already begun a program of bribery, intimidation, and corruption within all three island councils.”  
Looking concerned and determined, Camille asked: “What changes are we talking about?”  
“It starts with the thousand-foot pier. But tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow we start preparations for you three to win your promotions. And I’ll fill you in on the details of the Commissioners suspicions."

"Are we up for another platter?”

**********


	3. The Thousand Foot Pier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst pirates one can imagine! They come in three piece suits. Armed with lawyers and large bank accounts. But their henchmen can be just as ruthless and bloodthirsty as any Buccaneers of old. A leader is needed, but all Saint Marie has is an absentee governor.

**********

He was impressed. They were ready. Oh, a month of additional study and quiz, to polish and smooth off the rough edges, would not hurt. But these were three pros. His team. Ready to take on the challenge that the Commission was certain lurked on the horizon. Not quite two months until test day. They would be ready; there was no doubt. They would not want to let him or the Commissioner down.

Nearly twenty years at Scotland Yard had gotten him isolation and scorn. Three years at Saint Marie had won him respect, promotion, friendship, love, and a remarkable wife and partner. For the first time, in years, Richard was excited about work. As his old uni flatmate might say, ‘the game’s afoot’!

**********

The temperature was a perfect 85F. The crystal-clear Caribbean Sea was perfect. The light breeze stirred the palms to a perfect whispering rustle. Just enough clouds graced the perfect sky to give it depth and texture. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon. It was paradise. It was perfection.

**********

The team was assembled on the veranda of the revived ‘shack’. Camille and Richard had spent their off hours during the recent quiet weeks adding a bedroom, a proper kitchenette, and a second full sized bath. And they finished surrounding their home with a complete veranda. The tree and Harry remained as permanent fixtures.

**********

The symbolic bright yellow plastic tub was full of ice and longnecks.

“I’m sorry to have kept you ‘in the dark’, as it were. With the tourist season beginning next week, we will have a full plate before us. I have decided to create a new tradition. The weekend before the ‘season’ begins, we will have a cookout to prepare us for the increased workload ahead. Juliette, Caroline, Catherine, Pierre, Selwyn, and Simone will join us later for food and folic.”

“Well chief, now that we got the good news, what’s next?” Dwayne was always the one to ‘go where saints feared to tread’. “Do we finally find out what this whole corruption, intimidation, bribery thing is all about? I mean, this thousand-foot pier thing sounds crazy.”

“You're quite right Dwayne. It does sound crazy, unless you only care about ravaging and pillaging a small island. Essentially, looting and laying financial waste to a vulnerable population.”

Fidel stared at Richard with a look of horror. “Who can do this, and how can they get away with it? It’s not right. It is not fair. What can we do?”

“Well my friends, the very first order of business is for you three to pass your exams next month. We don’t know how large an adversary we face. We must have the troops in place to stand against the threat. I’m not hiring any new personnel until I have the leadership team all set. Second, we must quietly investigate the financial actions and the movements of those, on the various councils, who have suddenly changed their votes regarding approval of this monster pier. We must move swiftly, quietly, and most discretely. We want the individuals at the top; we can always gather up the stooges at the bottom, later.”

“Richard, ah I mean sir.”

“It’s okay, Camille, we’re off duty, we’re amongst friends. They know we’re married. The whole bloody island knows we’re married.”

“YES, Richard. What is this thousand-foot pier project? How does it fit in to the conspiracy?”

“Think first of two cruise ships docked on either side of said pier. Even if they are of the more modest, two thousand passenger variety, how can we handle an additional four thousand souls on this island of twelve thousand. Now envision two of those five or six thousand capacity behemoths. We don’t have the infrastructural ability to handle that onslaught. Within a few seasons the cruise lines would desert us, and our economy would collapse. But the promoters would have their booty and depart for their next victims.”

“Chief, what can we do?”

“Well Dwayne, we have several problems to face. They are political, criminal, and economic. The first is political. I believe it is at the core of all the other problems. For all practical purposes Saint Marie does not have a leader. The Honorable Sir Benjamin Mistric-Borne is governor in name only! His appointment is merely another line on his CV.

“CV, chief?”

“Curriculum vitae, Dwayne. His resume. Sir Benji, as he is referred to back in the UK, is a ‘right jolly good chap’. He has big plans for himself and we are just a steppingstone to larger and more lucrative positions. Our Governor has spoken to the Commission exactly once. That was two years ago when he was first appointed. He has never communicated with the chairman of the island council. So, we live in a state of benign neglect. This vacuum creates the perfect breeding ground for the greedy and unscrupulous to manipulate and ultimately take control.”

“Richard, how do we, four police officers, on a rather insignificant island, in the middle of the ocean, get the Queen to appoint a new governor who actually wants to govern? And wants to live here? And is someone we can trust? Don’t tell me you know the Queen!”

“No, Camille, but I did meet her at the Birthday Honors when father got his O.B.E.! But I do know someone who has tea with her frequently.”

“Boss, even with connections and everything, how do we know who or what we’ll end up with?”

“Excellent question Fidel. Anyone have a candidate in mind?”

Camille gave Richard that knowing look and smile that he had seen frequently when they first started to work together. It meant that they were in sync, heading for the same conclusion.

“I know of one man who has the background, the experience, wisdom, integrity and the gravitas to lead Saint Marie. Are we in agreement ‘mon cher’?”

“Mai oui, Camille!”

Dwayne and Fidel looked a bit puzzled, and then the lightbulb went on and in unison they exclaimed: “The Commissioner!” The whole team was in sync and hitting on all cylinders, as the saying goes.

**********

“The Commissioner, over the last few months, has talked of a vision he has for Saint Marie. What he doesn’t want is an island ringed with resorts. A feast or famine economy based on outside world economics that we have no influence over. He doesn’t want Saint Marie to be a ‘company town’. A whole community tied to one product or service.”

“But chief, what have we got except sun, sand and surf?”

“We have Mount Essmee, Dwayne. Not as a tourist attraction, but as the source of a restored agricultural economy. She gives us some of the richest soil on the planet. And a mountain gives you a variety of climates. We can grow sugar cane, plantains, grapes, and coffee.”

“But Richard, we are a small island, how do we make cash crops profitable in such limited space?”

“The internet, Camille. We keep the crops for our own use. We will develop boutique businesses. Our sugar cane becomes ‘Honore Rum’, ‘Port Royal Pirate’s Rum’, ‘Sainte Marie Royal Naval Rum’, or ‘Mt Esmee 100 proof Eruption Rum’. Coffee can be marketed as raw beans, roasted beans, or various grinds and flavors. Plantains and other tropical fruits and vegetables as Sainte Marie ‘exotics. And of course, the grapes offering wines and fortifies like ports and sherry. Forming small coops, these businesses would be island produced and owned. Coupled with the existing tourist resorts and marinas, we could have an economy that was stable and served all our citizens.”

“Boss, I’m with you a hundred percent on this. But still, how do we get to the Queen?”

“The wheels are turning Fidel. I’ve talked to my father and he is calling on some of his old ‘Foreign Service’ colleagues to start spreading the word. I now have a string, or rather a mighty cable to pull. I am going to call my former Cambridge flatmate Sean.”

“Richard, who is this ‘Sean’? You’ve indicated that Sean is a pseudonym. Who is he?”

“Camille, gentlemen, my former classmate is, Sherlock Holmes.”

The three sat in stunned silence. “Chief, you mean the guy in New York City who can solve any crime?”

“One and the same, my friends. He is the one who convinced me that the pursuit of Justice was a high and noble calling. He and his partner Dr Joan Watson are exemplars of the best in teamwork. But what I will be calling about is Sherlock’s father.”

“His father? I don’t understand. How can Sherlock Holmes and his father get the Commissioner appointed Governor?” Fidel’s confusion brought a small smile to Richard’s lips.

“Sherlock’s father is Morland Holmes.”

The three colleagues once again sat in shock.

“Richard? The million, billion, trillionaire? I mean, I thought that he was some sort of fantasy. Ahh, he is supposed to be able to start and stop wars and change heads of state. That’s the stuff of books and movies.”

“Yes Camille, but he is real, and I’m going to see if he can help. Have another round of longnecks. I have a phone call to make.


	4. the Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An absentee governor! Outside and internal forces at work to pillage and plunder the island. Exams looming, promotion sought. Help needed. Richard reaches out for to last resort. A visit from a powerful stranger. Help, but at what price?

Camille and Richard  
The Story Continues  
Chapter Four  
The Visit  
**********  
Nearly an hour had passed. Richard returned to the veranda and the expectant looks of his team.  
”Well then, Sherlock will await my next call.” Richard reached for a longneck and joined his friends at the table.  
“That is it? You’re on the phone for an hour with the quote, ‘world’s greatest detective’, who has the ‘world’s most powerful father’ unquote, and all you can say is, ‘Sherlock awaits my call?”  
“Camille!”  
“You are soooo English!” Camille’s eyes flashed fire at her husband! “What did you spend all your time talking about? How long it takes for a human body to decompose at twenty-six degrees celsius as opposed to twenty-seven degrees?”  
Richard lifted his hands in supplication. “Camille, please understand, Sherlock and I spent a rather inordinate amount of time talking about you and Joan. He and I are quite similar, in that we share the same great good fortune; we each have a brilliant, educated, and beautiful partner. One who stands at our side in the best of times and has our back at the worst.”  
Fidel and Dwayne, seated facing each other, didn’t move but let their eyes shifted in unison from Richard to Camille. Camille let her gaze move very slowly from Richard to Fidel and then to Dwayne. Returning to Richard she blurted: “What?” The immediate response was instant laughter from all the boys. Camille bolted to her feet, stomped to the yellow tub, and asked abruptly: “Who wants another?” Both Fidel and Dwayne raised the hands. “Get your own!” Now all four teammates laughed as Camille brought additional refreshment.  
**********  
The crunch of tires on the drive announced the arrival of the remaining guests. Caroline had come with Juliette in the Best’s forty-year-old restored Volkswagen Beetle. The other ‘newlyweds’ Catherine and Pierre arrived in style, with the Commission and Simone, in the Patterson’s Mercedes. The friends gathered around the firepit, comfortably settled with their drinks.  
Richard announced to the newcomers, “This is our new tradition. The Bordey-Poole beginning of the season soiree, picnic, cookout, and goodbye to days off, festivity. See you all in six months for the ‘Thank God It’s Over’ end of season party!” Chuckles and knowing nods were the unanimous response.“ 

“Now that we’re all comfortable and still sober, I have a proposal that I would like to make. We are an island without a governor. Oh, we technically have one, but he is not here, has never been here, and obviously has no desire to be here. His appointment will soon expire. We have gotten along quite nicely without Sir Benji, except for the fact that the future is upon us. The Commission, sorry sir, Selwyn has made me aware that there are people who wish to take advantage of this void and exploit the island economically. These unknown miscreants are our first challenge. But we need a leader, someone with vision, character, integrity and most of all, roots in the soul of Saint Marie. Commissioner, you are the man.” Cries of ‘Here. Here.’ and ‘Well said.’ Plus, cheers and applause met Richard’s declaration.  
“Richard, Richard, no, no! I do appreciate your recommendation, but I have no friends or connections at Whitehall, and certainly not at Buckingham Palace! No. You, you honor me but, no!” The commissioner was genuinely moved.  
“Sir! I DO!” The assemblage all turned to Richard. “My father awaits my call to start his communication with his former colleagues and friends in the Foreign Service, and his contacts at Whitehall. In addition, I have talked to my former flatmate at Cambridge, Sean. Sean, in point of fact, is none other than Sherlock Holmes.”  
Selwyn’s brow furrowed. “Would that make him the son of Morland Holmes?”  
“Yes sir. Do you know him?”  
“Richard, I met your father in the Falkland Islands misadventure. It was suggested that Morland Holmes stopped that foolishness. A man of great power and persuasion. I understand that he has connections at every level, everywhere. He makes things happen! But always at a price.”  
“True.” Richard nodded. “But he also has a particular passion for aiding the poor and defenseless. I must take Sherlock at his word. He is no great fan of his own father, but he has seen the results of the senior Holmes’ philanthropy. We need leadership: Yours! We need help: His!”  
“Do you trust Sherlock’s judgement in this matter?”  
“Yes sir, with my very life. Sherlock is eccentric but his belief in justice is so strong, that I know he would not put any of us in jeopardy.”  
“Well then Richard, I have but to consult with my trusted partner.”  
“Simone, at this mature point in our lives, would you be willing to take on the burden of public life? It is much more time consuming than the life we currently lead.”  
“Selwyn, I may not be a daughter of the island, but our children grew to maturity here. I love this place and these people as much as you. Serving these people, the rest of my life would not be a burden, but a privilege. You are the right man for this task. I am your partner. I would only be disappointed if you said no. ‘Mon Coeur, mon amour, mon amie!’ “  
“Richard, you have our answer.”  
**********  
The calls are made. And now the wait.  
**********  
It is a simple email.  
One which will impact the lives of many.

Commissioner Selwyn Patterson:  
I should like to meet and discuss your plans for Saint Marie.  
Arriving Thursday next. 1 PM Government House.  
Lunch at “Catherine’s” 3 PM.  
Please include Rick.  
With anticipation,  
Morland Holmes  
**********  
“No uniform sir?”  
“No, Richard. I know that I can be a bit pompous and officious with the uniform and the imposing office. But today is business not ceremony. Business suits and the conference room. I doubt that we could impress Morland Holmes with ‘pomp and circumstance’.”  
“Right, you are sir……. I am a bit agitated, can’t seem to decide if I am excitedly awaiting a visit from Father Christmas, or about to mount the steps to the gallows!”  
“I share your anticipation and apprehension, Richard.”  
The intercom buzzes and Selwyn answers: “Yes, Patricia.”  
“Commissioner, a large black helicopter has landed at the airport and was met by a large black van. ETA twenty-five minutes, sir.”  
“Thank you, Patricia.”  
“Our future approaches, sir”  
“Quite so, Richard.”  
**********  
The immaculate black van silently glided to a stop in front of Government House. Three large, fit men in black suits and dark aviator glasses emerged. The driver opened the sliding door as the other two took up defensive positions left and right. A tall, trim, elegant man in his late sixties or early seventies emerged. Attired in a double breasted dark pinstriped ‘Savile Row’ suit he presented an aura of dignity and power. This was not a man to be trifled with. This was Morland Holmes.  
**********  
Ascending the steps of Government House Mr. Holmes was greeted by the unnaturally nervous Commissioner Selwyn Patterson and Chief of Police Richard Poole. The reception was appropriate, mutual smiles, handshakes, and banal greetings. The three men stood for a moment, evaluating each other. Morland broke the silence. “Gentlemen, would you mind if my associates made a brief electronic, security sweep of our meeting room?”  
“Not at all Mr. Holmes. I’m sure that you possess much more sophisticated equipment than Saint Marie can afford.” The commissioner ruefully thought that his major technological accomplishment had been to procure the funds necessary to convert a small storage room into a very basic forensic lab where Fidel could do preliminary blood, fingerprint, and DNA workups.  
**********  
Ensconced in three leather club chairs near the fireplace at the end of the conference room the men were met by Patricia and an eighteenth-century antique tea cart.  
“Rick, you remembered, Jasmine tea and honey. You and Sherlock, remarkable memories.”  
“Rick?” The Commissioner knew of Richards dislike for nicknames and diminutives.  
“My apologies Richard. I know you prefer to be addressed as Richard. But I have fond memories of you and Sherlock’s skills at mimicry during your sojourn at Cambridge. Your Humphry Bogart and Sherlock’s Claude Rains; doing scenes from ‘Casablanca’. You two were spot on.”  
“Commissioner, may I call you Selwyn?”  
“Of course, please do Mr. Holmes.”  
“Morland. Please, Selwyn.”  
“Morland.”  
“Gentlemen, I am here because the plan that you have developed for Saint Marie is most intriguing. Most ambitious politicians, reformers, idealists, and do-gooders tend to believe that bigger is better. It is amazing that here in the twenty first century, we still want to either ‘use’ them, or ‘make them ‘just like us’! Your plan offers economic growth for the people of this island without their having to relinquish their culture. I want to hear your thoughts and plans, from the heart, or the gut if you will.”  
And so, the meeting began.  
**********  
Two hours later the three men adjourned to ‘Catherine’s Bistro and Bar’ for a late lunch with the remainder of the Saint Marie ‘Brain Trust’. Selwyn, Simone, Catherine, Pierre, Richard, Camille stood around the largest table in the ‘King Richard’s Public House’ section of ‘Catherine’s’. Morland stood near the hearth and gazed at the mugs hung above the mantle.  
“Rick, a mug club I see.” Morland reach for one of the tankards and turned to the group. “I am normally a whiskey man, but today I think a pint is in order. Especially since I seem to have my own mug. Is anyone else on the island named Morland? Eh Rick?”  
“No sir. And a pint it is, in your own mug, always awaiting your next visit.”  
“Mr. Holmes, not knowing your precise preferences Pierre and I have set out an island seafood buffet luncheon. I hope it meets with your approval.”  
“I have no doubts Madame Bordey-Bourlanger. And it is Morland to one and all.”  
The luncheon proceeded in a warm and convivial manner. Over demitasse and island sweets, Morland addressed the group. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is rare that I have the pleasure of aiding a group such as you. Normally I am serving the ‘lesser of two evils’. This tends to make one rather cynical. I came here today wondering if the research that my staff had done could be quite so optimistic. If anything, they were a bit conservative in their assessment.”  
“Selwyn, I shall be lunching with Her Majesty in a fortnight. It would behoove you and your lady to stand ready to journey to London at the expiration of Sir Benji’s appointment. I think it is safe to say that a transfer of power will be taking place at that time.” The table erupted in applause and cheers. Morland rose and prepared to depart: “I should note that it is rare when I am reluctant to depart for my next venture. But I must say that Selwyn you are a fortunate man to live in paradise and be surrounded by such fine friends. I wish you all the best of fortune. By the by, I have my staff making inquiries regarding those who wish to plunder your island. We shall be in touch.”  
**********  
As Morland strode across the deck of Catherine’s’ toward the waiting van, he was intercepted by Camille.  
“Monsieur Holmes, a word?”  
“But of course, Camille, how can I help.”  
“I know you extract much for your services, but I will not let you hurt my Richard or anyone else that I love!” Camille’s eyes glared a warning that was without ambiguity.  
Morland smiled.  
“Mr. Holmes, this is not a laughing matter!”  
“I am not laughing at your concern, Camille. I am reminded that not long-ago Joan Watson issued a similar warning to me. My smile is one of pleasure. My son Sherlock and his only friend at Cambridge, two young men who I grieved to believe would ever find the love and companionship of a true partner. They both have found intelligent, educated, courageous, beautiful, and fierce true partners. They are fortunate men, and I am happy for them. You need not fear. ‘Bon jour, madame. Bon jour.”  
Morland Holmes gracefully entered the van and suddenly was gone. The vehicle had vanished as though in a puff of smoke. Camille stood staring at the spot where the van had been. For a moment it was as though he had not actually been there at all. A moment later, Richard had his arm around her waist.  
“Interesting man, eh what? I swear he looks exactly as he did twenty years ago. A remarkable person, you are both drawn to him, and afraid of him, all at the same time. Astonishing! Well, you and the team have some tests to take and pass. Shall we venture back to the station? Duty calls. And I am sure Fidel and Dwayne are beside themselves with curiosity. We need to have all of the team promoted before the Commissioner ascends to higher office.”  
“Richard, ‘Rick’? hmm, I do like ‘Rick’, ‘tres sexy’! Do you think that everyone can keep the Commissioner’s future job under their hair?”  
“Hat.”  
“Quoi?”  
“Chapeau!”  
“Why didn’t you say so?”  
“Ohhhhh………”  
“You are SO English!”  
“Ha! And you are delightfully ‘too French’!”  
“Monsieur Rick! Your hands! We are in a public area!”  
“Hmmmm……….. Yum.”  
**********


	5. Tests, Tests, and More Tests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change is upon them. New responsibilities. New challenges. The future is now.

Camille and Richard the story Continues  
Chapter Five  
Tests, Tests, and more Tests  
**********  
He had come and gone as a wraith. An apparition, a specter, and yet his brief visit might change the future of Sant Marie in a very real and tangible way.  
The team had gathered at Catherine’s, their usual after-hours hangout. Often more work got done over a mug, in the King Richard’s pub, than over case files.  
Pierre: husband, partner, savior of Catherine and Camille Bordey brought a large pitcher to fill the mugs of the police foursome.  
“He creates quite the impression. This Morland Holmes. You are quite correct to be wary. He is most powerful, and yet, he possesses a certain, as you say, nobility. If not for Monsieur Morland Holmes’ intervention, I would be nothing more than dust in the sands of Algeria. Be cautious ‘mon amies’, but be aware, he can be a force for much good. Enjoy your ale my children. I must return to my duties. My wife believes I am too conversational with the cliental. She thinks that I am still ‘attrayant pour le femmes’! Is that not ‘merveilleux’! I am a man most fortunate.”  
Richard glanced at Camille, that’s all it took. The French woman, so passionate, so intense, so possessive, so, so French. He as did Pierre, knew that they were total captives to these incredible women. He would endure all the sand, glare, heat, humidity, insects, and lizards that fate could contrive, for but a moment of bliss with Camille. Call him a fool, call him anything that you wish, with Camille he was totally immune to all insults. He was a man in love.  
**********  
Richard grimaced, Camille smiled, she knew her man was about to make one of his quiet proclamations. “Team, I have put us in the bog as it were. Morland Holmes, Sherlock Holmes and my own father Major John Edward Poole are pressing forth with their collective contacts to see that our next governor is someone who genuinely cares about Saint Marie! That problem is now out of our hands. We have more immediate concerns. All three of you have exams waiting. Camille, I know you are well prepared, so I have scheduled you to take the Detective Inspector test next week. It will follow the usual protocol. Government House, seven am, two one-hour session, and the Commissioner will act as monitor. Any questions Sergeant?  
Camille hesitated a moment, then replied. “No questions Sir. I have reviewed the manual and the resource materials you provided. The mock test was an excellent confidence builder. I’m ready.”  
“Excellent.”  
“Sir? Does that put me next? I could use a bit more time.”  
“I agree Fidel. You did exceptional on the mock test and the two pop quizzes I’ve thrown at you. But you’re making a big jump. An extra week of prep won’t hurt.”  
“So, I get to go face the firing squad after Camille, eh, chief?”  
“Dwayne, you’re ready now, so let’s not put it off. No cold feet now. Okay?”  
“Oh, I don’t want to put it off. Sooner the better!”  
“What? That doesn’t sound like any Dwayne Myers I know.”  
“Well Chief, it’s like this. Caroline, she’s been quizzing me, makin’ me do my homework. Made a set of flash cards. Even reads important stuff out loud to me, stuff that she thinks I should know. It really helps, a lot. She’s all excited about me movin’ up and takin’ on new responsibilities. She also likes the idea of the extra stripes. The downside is that all this studin’ is really cuttin’ into our….. er….. you know….. personal time. So, I want to get this thing over and done with! I’m on it chief! I really am!”  
“Well, well, well! A man with high motivation.”  
“In low places.” Mumbled a smirking Fidel, staring at his desktop. Camille snorts.  
An indignant Dwayne pronounces: “Hey, I’m the only guy that makes with the wisecracks around here.”  
Now all the officers were laughing, except one. Richard was maintaining his professional demeanor. But Camille noted a slight curl at the corner of his mouth that would never been there three years ago.  
**********  
Three weeks later.  
**********  
Richard sat at his desk. It still annoyed him that there were no seasons. Even his new light weight, custom fitted, wool suits clung as though glued to his body. How did the Commissioner do it? Heavy, tight, constricting uniform, and yet no sweat stains, no wrinkles, and no creases! He stood to greet his boss. The Commissioner seemed unusually relaxed.  
“Sir.”  
” Richard.”  
“Team, sit, sit. Much has happened to all of us in the last three years.” His face opened into a broad smile. “I have had the unique privilege of watching each of you grow, not only professionally but as individuals. This has given me immense pleasure. You are a unique group of officers who have bonded in a way I would never have imagined. Each of you has become more than an exemplary ‘copper’. You have become outstanding citizens of this island. We are not just colleagues, but I think of you as my friends and Simone and I look upon you as family.”  
The silence was so thick, it had texture. Everyone sat frozen. The Commissioner had shown fondness and even some affection at Richard and Camille’s wedding festivities. But never in the work environs, had he been anything but formal, stern, even severe.  
Slowly, with formality, Richard rose. “Sir, I believe that I may take the liberty and speak for the team and each of us as individuals. I, we are flattered and honored by your trust and affection. I, I don’t know what to say except I, we offer a heartfelt thank you.” Richard extended his hand and was greeted with a rib crushing hug. The other three officers joined in the spontaneous display.  
Breaking away, the Commissioner exhorted his team to once again be seated. “It appears that I have the horse and carriage all catawampus. It is easier to be appointed governor than it is to have your tests scored in a timely fashion.” This time the hugs and handshakes were spontaneous. The smiles were no longer embarrassed but instant and joyful.  
Dwayne blurted out, “When? Where? How?” Followed by a belated “Sir” and a half dozen salutes.  
“I received a call the night before last from Mr. Holmes personally. He informed me that an emissary of Her Majesty would pay attendance this morning at 0900. And that I and Simone should be prepared to be in London in a fortnight. While he would not be at the swearing in ceremony, he would have lunch with us and Her Majesty on the following day at Buckingham Palace.”  
“This morning, promptly at nine, the courier, an actual Lord, and his aide-de-camp arrived in a Bentley Salon. After formalities were observed, I was presented a diplomatic pouch with the Royal Seal stamped on the hasp. I must admit that I stood and stared at it for quite an extended period. I looked up and the emissary was smiling. It seems that when most people are presented with such an impressive pouch, well, no one wants to break the seal. I finally did and read the official announcement and invitation. The aide then presented me with a binder with all the protocols to be observed.  
Simone joined us for tea. The two of us then spent the next two hours being tutored in all the who, what, where, wen, and how’s, of a Royal Audience. When we finished, the emissary and his aide, resplendent, in their bespoke business suits with all their medals and awards rose to depart. They had been incredibly gracious and kind. As we shook hands, the Queen’s representative remarked, ‘I know Sir Benji, he’s a good chap, but he had no interest in being governor. His political advisors thought it would look good on the old CV, eh what? Her Majesty is most pleased that Saint Marie is to be in the hands of one of its own. Best of luck old man.’ And then they were gone.”  
The four officers all sat silently, digesting this incredibly good news. Fidel was the first to speak.  
“Congratulations Governor, congratulations.” The team started to rise but were waved down by Selwyn.  
“it is still Commissioner for two more weeks.”  
Once again it was Dwayne bouncing to his feet to proclaim: “Then we party eh? Big island jamboree! Er, ah, sir, ah, governor, commissioner, sir?” This time everybody, commissioner included laughed, saluted and laughed a great deal more.  
**********  
Picking up his briefcase and placing it on the corner of Richard’s desk, Selwyn looked at his officers, his team, his friends.  
“My dear friends, I have one more task to perform. This will probably be my last official function as Commission. I can assure that it will be my most satisfying. Now, no more delays.”  
“It is an honor and a personal pleasure to award to you, Richard Arthur Poole, Chief of Law Enforcement for the island of Saint Marie the promotion to the rank of Chief Inspector of Police. The title of Honore Chief of Police is being retired. Congratulations Richard. The rest of you, as you were. We’ll do the hugs and such at the end.”  
“Camille Catherine Bordey, you are promoted to the rank of Detective Inspector of Police, by virtue of an astonishing perfect test score. Raised a few eyebrows back at New Scotland Yard. You will also carry the title of Honore Station Chief. Congratulations Camille.”  
“Fidel Maurice Best, you are promoted to the rank of Detective Sergeant of Police. You are the first officer in the Colonial Constabulary to accomplish a double rank increase. With a score of ninety-six I might add. Congratulations Fidel.”  
“Dwayne Michael Myers, you are promoted to the rank of Sergeant of Police. You did us all proud Dwayne with a score of ninety-eight.” Congratulations.”  
“I believe we may now proceed with the hugs et cetera!”  
And proceed they did, with pride and enthusiasm!  
**********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoikes and gadzooks. Avast mateys there be Pirates! Arghhhh! Distaff Pirates? Lady Pirates on Saint Marie? The newly promoted Team faces its toughest test yet!


	6. 'Fire' and 'Ice'    Part 1 of 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newly promoted team faces some daunting challenges. But the most vexing may the most dangerous. PIRATES!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to sweepeaspatch and Isainparadise. Their input has been invaluable. I'm absolutely certain that their 'pirate' stories would be far more entertaining than mine. They both serve as muses, cheerleaders, critics, and amusing and clever kibitzers. And most of all, inspiration to keep me pounding on the old keyboard. "I thanee agin, tis a pirates life for (we)? Haarrrr!"

Chapter 6  
‘Fire’ and ‘Ice’  
Part 1 of 8  
**********  
“Hey Chief, the chief has been gone………. I mean… hey Sir, … Ma’am? Boss? Guv? ……… Well… what do we call you anyways?”  
“Dwayne, you call me Camille. If we are doing police business with anyone else present, then I am ‘Inspector’. Fidel is ‘Detective’, and you are ’Sergeant’. Richard is ‘Chief’.”  
“Gotcha! Chief, sir, sorry, Camille. Damn.”  
“Sarge, you okay?” Fidel grins and tries again. “Sergeant Myers are you alright?”  
“A’course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m just … gettin’ use to things.”  
“Don’t feel bad Dwayne, I feel like I’m sitting at the wrong desk and I forgot to put on the right clothes. At least you got your uniform. Juliette wants to take me shopping for a proper wardrobe.”  
“Don’t worry Fidel.” Camille intervenes. “I’ll give your wife a call and tell her to hold off a bit, until we all get our bearings. Remember, you’re going to be our forensic guy. So, you want to be as cool and comfortable as possible. I did your job in a sleeveless blouse and short shorts.”  
“I don’ think he’s got the legs for that outfit,” smirks Dwayne.”  
“Sergeant!”  
“Sorry sir, ma’am, Inspector. This is way harder than the exam was.”  
Camille chortles. “Sergeant, you need to be doing something constructive. Your buddy at the bike shop left a message. The decals are in. ‘Sergeant D. Myers’, ‘Saint Marie Police Department’, ‘Honore Station’, and two sets of sergeant’s stripes. Make sure you’re at the quay by noon to meet the ferry. Richard sent JP to Guadeloupe to pick up his first uniform allotment. Since he passed the entrance exam and physical, he’s now a sworn probationary officer. Bring him back here and we’ll get him a locker and see that he’s properly kitted out. Then you, JP, and your fancy decked out motorcycle can make the afternoon rounds. Oh, and don’t go by the school too many times. We don’t want Caroline too distracted.”  
Dwayne pops to his feet slaps on his hat and salutes. “I’m on it chief.” And he is out the door.  
**********  
Fidel leans back and smiles with contentment. “He may have a new title and new responsibilities but he’s still Dwayne. I wish I had half his charisma.”  
“I think two Dwaynes would be too much.” Camille ventures.  
“Camille, Dwayne asked about the chief; what is going on?”  
“I’m not sure Fidel. Richard got a call just as he returned from his morning row. It was the Commissioner. He wanted to see Richard ASAP. Something about pirates! Richard was showered, dressed, and out the door by half six. Haven’t heard a word since.”  
“Wow, pirates?”  
“Well, that’s what he said the Commissioner said. But the Commissioner may be a bit tense and distracted. He and Simone leave day after tomorrow for London and the official transfer of power.”  
What happens then, Camille?”  
“In about a month, an official government delegation representing Her Majesty will arrive for a ceremonial investiture. You know, all that pomp and circumstance; robes, tricorn hats, sashes, medals, ribbons and all of us in our shiny new dress uniforms. Then? What else! Party, Caribbean style! Parade, music, food, dancing, and the brand-new Governor of Saint Marie, His Honor Selwyn Franklin Patterson!”  
“I can't believe how things have changed. Three years ago, I was ready to quit. My foster father had a contact that could get me the training and license so I could be a ferryboat pilot. But then Charlie got killed, the chief shows up, you show up, the chief arrests Lily and suddenly, this whole police work thing is exciting and challenging. And then I meet Juliette, we get married and little Rosie comes along. Then you and the chief get hitched. And now I’m a Detective Sergeant. Oh, WOW ... Wow ...... wow!”  
Camille wasn’t that much older than Fidel, but his exclamation had her feeling very maternal. Her boy had done good. She needed to remind Richard how much influence he had exerted on both Fidel and Dwayne. In his own odd way, he was a very nurturing man. He would be a marvelous father. Now Camille was feeling extremely maternal. Time for some subtle hints. Hmmmmm  
**********  
It was late afternoon when Chief Inspector Richard Poole finally returns to the Honore Station and his newly promoted and expanded team. At the center of the room Richard pauses and slowly turns to survey the expectant faces of the four officers. His forehead creases. “Hmmmm, gone but half a day and nary a desk to be found!”  
All four officers jump up and simultaneously offer their desks and chairs. With a very small smile Richard motions them back to their places. "I only need to be at the new white board. And Sarge, if you’d bring over the easel and the large permanent map of the Caribbean. Sarge?” With that Camille and Fidel were on their feet. “No! Not Inspector Bordey nor Detective Best, I want SARGE!  
Dwayne explodes to his feet, saluting, and knocking over his chair. “Easel, map, yep easelmap, I’m on it Chief.”  
Turning to the newest member of the team, Richard asks: “Jean-Pierre Hooper is it? But I understand that you prefer JP? Correct?”  
His wide-eyed response, “Ah, ah, yes sir, chief. If you don’t mind?”  
“Not at all JP, not at all.”  
Moving to the 4’ by 8’ white board and Caribbean map Richard pauses, “Thank you Dwayne. Now then team, we are going to be at sixes and sevens for the next few weeks. We shall have not only full plates, but I dare say full platters. I shall need your newly expanded textbook knowledge as well as your years of experience in the field to carry us through.”  
“JP, the discipline, initiative, and reliability you have shown over the last two years on the night patrol have earned you not only this new position but my personal trust. Attach yourself to Sergeant Myers. He will teach you everything that’s not in the manual. Pay attention, absorb all you can, Dwayne’s the best.”  
Dwayne looks up, a bit surprised and flustered. Then the megawatt smile. He gestures toward JP and announces, “We’re on it chief.”  
“Good, then let us review what lies before us.  
First, we have our regular daily responsibilities. Camille, as station chief that burden falls on you. Use of manpower for our local and immediate needs takes precedence.  
Second, we will be involved in the investiture of our new governor in approximately four to six weeks. I will be acting as liaison with the government representatives. Security will be handled by a squad of Royal Marines who are experts in ceremonial functions. We will all be participants in that day’s events.  
Third, we will continue our investigation into the financial cabal and its attempts to subvert the interests of Saint Marie. We have some rather interesting leads from New York and London. These will be pursued more aggressively when the Commissioner has been installed as Governor. He will take the lead when he and Simone return from England.”  
Fourth, our most pressing problem? Pirates!”  
All four officers leaned forward with childlike enthusiasm.  
Camille queries: “Robbery? Ransom? Boat theft? Drugs?”  
“No team, these aren’t your run of the mill pirates. Their modus operandi is a bit unusual. Vigilantism, retribution, and humiliation are their calling cards. Their activities have all the earmarks of revenge. They operate from Puerto Rico to Trinidad.”  
“Sir?” Fidel asked. “Why haven’t we heard or seen any sign of them here? How are we involved?”  
“Deduction, Fidel. It seems that we’re roughly at the midpoint of the Caribbean arc of the miscreants’ operations. We’re a volcanic island with a lot of small hidden inlets and coves. Most are too small for commercial development and too steep for private use, but ideal for hiding a forty to fifty-foot high-performance, offshore racing type vessel. We’re also the only island without a marine patrol. The only thing we know for certain is that they dress like it’s 1721 but their equipment and weapons are 2021. They go by the names of Fire and Ice. It would appear that we’ve got our work cut out for us.”  
“We’ll need a plan and a fair share of luck. Team, let’s get to work. We’ve got pirates to catch!”  
**********


	7. 'Fire' and 'Ice'    Part 2 of 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pirates attack! Who are these sea devils? What do they want?

Chapter 7  
‘Fire’ and ‘Ice’  
Part 2 of 8  
**********  
One month earlier. A warm clear moonless Saturday night. A glassy calm sea.  
**********  
‘Fire and Ice’ Part Two  
**********  
“Well now me buckos! Stand calm and no heroics if ye please. We’ll be about our business and be on our way, … lest ye decides to go all dumb on us. Me partner here be Fire; a name earned by virtue of a mean and nasty temper. I be Ice, all calm and cool. I duna have a temper so I can slit your gizzard with the sweetest of smiles upon me mug. I see ye be shiften’ yer feet, likes yer gona make a try fer us. I’d not be advisin’ it.”  
In a heartbeat, both pirates stand with cutlasses in one hand and sawed-off double-barreled shotguns in the other.  
“Now, now, now laddies do not try to play us for fools. As ye kin see these here breakaway holsters let us fill our hands fastern you’ll e’er move. An by the by these be double barrel, double charge, double ought! Was I to give both triggers a pull I’d be have’n a sore wing for a day or two but you four, aahh ye’d be chum! So’s when I pulls the trigger it’s just like grapeshot in a cannon. We calls them deck sweepers and that be anoder name I goes by… Sweeps! Ha. Ha! Ha! Harrrr!”  
The boldest or the drunkest or the dumbest of the foursome speaks. “Your partner doesn’t say much, does he, or is he just nervous. huh?”  
“Well macho boy, me partner speaks with the blade. Show ‘em, Fire.”  
“Pobre diablos, you mistake my silence for cowardice?” Turning to Sweeps, Fire smiles wickedly and ventures. “Mi amigo, I care not what they think about me but a little show? Si?”  
In less than a blink, Fire with five flicks of the cutlass cuts ‘F/l’ in the back of the helm seat. And says with an evil grin, “Caballeros, do you not know of El Zorro the fox? Zip zip zip with the sword, easy. But it is ‘muy dificil’ with the cutlass. I can do it on thees boats seat or your belly or ….. en tu culo!!!  
“Harrr, that means ‘on your backsides’! Ha! H! hA! Now laddies, it be time to get down to business. Wallets phones passports on the deck. An be quick about it! NOW!”  
“You as good as your partner with that pig sticker?” snarls ‘macho boy’.  
A flash of steel and half of the speaker’s beard drops to his feet. He raises his hand to his cheek. He looks at his hand. No blood. He faints with a rather girlish sigh.  
“Gents I be gittin a wee bit cross and me partner would just as soon turn ye all into shark bait. And I’d as soon send this hulk straight to Davey Jones locker. Now pickemup, wakemup and do as I be tellin’ ye!  
Soon the deck is littered with the demanded items. Fire goes through the wallets, extracting all the cash and throws the money on the deck. The wallets phones and passports go into a mesh bag.  
“Now then lads, strip right down to the day yer was aborn. Lively now. Fire’s not a patient sort and we’ve not had any real sport wi’ye.” With the thought of what pirate sport might be, the four were out of their clothes in record time.  
While Fire keeps the four covered, Ice gathers all the clothing and stuffs a larger mesh bag with the accumulation. Moving to the duffle bag they had brought; Ice removes a round black object.  
“Well lads this be a sixteen-pound cannon ball.” Ice adds the orb to the bag of garments, ties off the bag and slings it over the transom into the briny deep. There’s a gasp from the four naked men. Ice then draws out a smaller object from the duffle. “An this be a two-pound shot, from a swivel gun mounted on a quarter deck rail. I all’s like to give ar victims a little historical perspective!” Both pirates utter guttural dark laughter. “Now bad boys watch close. The shot goes in the bag wi’ yer goodies and o’er she goes ta join yer duds. Ha… ha… ha… ha. Haaaaa!” The buccaneers heartless laughter mingles with the moans of "noooooo nooooo" from the stunned victims.   
“I theenk these ‘chicos muy malos’ also need a good bath.” Fire speaks with a malice that sends a chill through the four captives.  
“I agree wi’ ye partner but first I needs ta let these miscreants know what for we paid them a visit, eh?”  
“Be queek! I am most not patient. And you know what I do when I am not with thee patients!” Fire’s cutlass flashes back and forth through the air with a whistle that sings a demonic duet with the pirate’s evil laughter.  
“I’ll make er a quick speech Fire.”  
“Well, laddies it goes like this; yer out on yer fancy charter fishin’ boat, leavin’ yer wives back at the spa. But lord above yer doin’ all yer fishin’ at bars and beach front waterin’ holes. No fish there but lots o’ fine ladies that didn’t find yer attentions OR intensions very honorable. Just cusin you wants, don’ mean ye gets! Them gals ain’t things ya know. They’s be people just like yer selves, ... only better. Now we sure tink that your lack o’ respect for yer wives and all the gals ye offended o’er the last three nights has earned ye a little lesson. Pirate style! Ha... ha… Haaarr”  
Suddenly Fire flicks the tip of the cutlass and extracts the keys from the dash panel, another flick cuts the float free from the keys and a catapult like motion sends the keys far into the night. Another groan comes from the captives!  
“Senores, por favor, eat is time to walk on thee plank. No? Vamos! Move qweek or moris aqui mismo!”  
“Turn around ya scabrous lot. We be tired a seein’ naught but yer short comin’s! Now up on the gunnel wi’ ye. Lively now! Grab yer ankles!” At compliance, there was the ominous swish of two cutlasses, four resounding smacks, four soprano pitched yowls, and four splashes!  
Floating in the warm Caribbean Sea the four clung to the boat, letting the water sooth their sore posteriors.  
Looking down at their handiwork the two pirates sweep their plumed hats off in mock tribute.  
“With a final wild eyed grin Fire pronounces, “Adios amigos, adios!” Quickly crossing the charter boats deck Fire boards, the ‘Fire and Ice’ and prepares for departure.  
Sweeps chuckles malevolently at the four bathing beauties. “All ye got is a nice welt from the flat of our blades. A reminder of a sore butt when ye’s go ta set fer the next fortnight or so. As soons as we be away ye can crawl yer scurvy carcasses onto the swim platform. Da na fergit to pick up yer cash lads. Wouldn’t want it ta blow away. Au revoir gents! HARRR!  
As Ice crosses over to their boat, Fire brings the four six hundred horsepower outboard engines to life. Ice vaults over the two boats’ gunnels into the ‘Fire and Ice” and with a single slice parts the mooring line. Stepping into the bolster and strapping in tightly Ice nods to fire and advances the throttles. Idling around the stern of the forty-five-foot charter boat they confirm that their victims are safely back on board the immobilized yacht. The ‘Fire and Ice’ comes up on plane and is soon slicing through the velvet night at seventy knots.  
“Maravilloso! More witnesses to how muy mal those pirate hombres are. A perfect disguise. Don’t you think Sweeps?” Fire’s voice is now that of a calm elegantly gentile Spanish lady. A lady the poor wretches they have just left would certainly never recognize.

**********  
Fifteen minutes later, throttling back to a comfortable thirty knots Ice unstraps and slips out of the standup bolster and grumbles, “I’m going below and get out of this Halloween costume. This damn Vandyke beard and mustache are driving me to distraction. How do men stand them? I’ll be back in a flash. OK?”  
Ten minutes later a tall athletic woman emerges from the cabin. She’s now clad in deck shoes, cargo shorts and a long-sleeved blue work shirt. She carries a windbreaker and a steaming mug. She nods to her compatriot, “I’ll take the helm now. There’s a mug for you on the stove counter.” Ice/Sweeps is now back to being the sweet Canadian widow Martha. Her mug contains her favorite post raid concoction black tea, rum and a touch of honey. She is content, all has gone according to plan. She pulls up the drop-down seat of the bolster, sits and waits for her friend, Fire/Isa/Isabel.  
“Oh, I’m so glad to be out of that makeup and padding.” Isa exclaims as she rejoins Martha at the helm. The swan has emerged from the very ugly pirate duckling! They both don their jackets, headphones, goggles and self-inflating life vests. Snugly strapped into the standup bolsters, Ice turns off all lights except the dim red of the instruments and turns on both the long and shortrange radars. With a shared grin, Fire advances the throttles, while Ice steers the 54-foot water rocket. The four engines scream to near redline, as the boat leaps to 80 knots. Fire glances at the SatNav and announces to her microphone, “At this rate we’ll be home well before light.” Both pirates laugh with sheer delight at the power they now control. The adrenaline rush is a better high than Rum or Champagne or for that matter any man could hope to provide.

**********  
Three hours and home. Saint Marie!

**********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With fulsome apologies to any Canadian and/or Spanish ladies. The characters of 'Fire' and 'Ice' are purely fictional and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is completely coincidental. Unless .... it's not! Harrr!


	8. Who are these pirates?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behind the masks and costumes. Who are these pirates. What plans do they plot?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To pirate fiends S/P and Isa. Fair winds, calm seas, and smooth rum. HARRRR!

Chapter 8

‘Fire’ and ‘Ice’

Part 3 of 8

**********

The moonless sky is still a diamond strewn, black velvet blanket. With her fake, peel-off name removed, the swash-buckling ‘Fire and Ice’, is once again the law-abiding ‘Daut3’. She idles toward the jungle lined west shore of Saint Marie. Giving every appearance of running up on to the beach, the vessel heads toward the entrance to a hidden cove. Fire/Isa/Isabel opens her laptop and taps a key that enables two electronic sensors, which outline the channel entrance on the boats SatNav. From any perspective, it appears as though the boat is sliding into the jungle. A hundred meters in, Ice/Sweeps/Martha spins the wheel to make a ninety-degree left turn. Another hundred meters and a sharp right turn brings the boat into a completely enclosed sand bottomed lagoon.

Crossing to the inland side of the crystal clear basin, Martha edges the boat onto a partially submerged cradle. Isabel secures lines to the exposed vertical posts of the cradle and connects a hook to the bow eye, signaling the task complete. Martha shuts down the four engines and raises them clear of the water. Isabel uses her laptop to turn off the sensors and start the cradle and boat up the marine railway into the enclosed boathouse.

Once fully secured, Martha lowers the engines into a trough of fresh water, fires up the beasts and flushes any saltwater from their cooling systems. Meanwhile Isabel gives the hull a quick freshwater hosing. She lays the vinyl self-stick ‘Fire and Ice’ graphics on a rack to await their next raid. On the left of the ‘Daut3’ sits the ‘Daut2’ a pristine white 26’ center console cuddy cabin fishing boat, and to the right is an immaculate 1930 solid mahogany barrel back split cockpit runabout, the ‘Daut1’.

Having completed their boat keeping chores Martha and Isabel exit the boathouse and head up the long flight of stairs to ‘la Casa de las Piratas”.

**********

Martha had inherited her uncle’s ‘Caribe Escape’ nearly ten years ago. She and Isabel, former university roommates teamed up shortly after, as young widows seeking a new life.

The house is four boxes sitting on a teak deck surrounding a rectangular swimming pool. The uncle had been a phenomenally successful engineer and architect. He loved challenges. So, blasting a shelf in the side of a mountain was fun. Flying prebuilt modules in by helicopter was just another day’s work. Later in life he turned to philanthropy and social justice. His own two daughters were deeply involved with their own families and careers so his niece, the widow Martha, was drawn into his many charitable ventures and eventually she became his ersatz ‘Daut3’. It seemed that the men in Martha’s life all died young. Her father, her husband, her uncle had all left before their time. Isabel had a similar past. So, there they were. Two intelligent, educated, independent women of a certain age, creating their own narrative.

**********

Entering the main module, the partners drop their duffels.

“All in all, a good night’s work, eh, Isabel?”

“Si mi amiga. What is it now twenty-one or twenty-two raids we have carried out?”

Martha quietly snorts. “Twenty-Four. Hard to believe we’ve been at this for three years, isn’t it? .... Well, it’s still dark and I need food and bed. Why don’t you check the videos from tonight and I’ll throw together some breakfast?”

They soon meet on the deck near the firepit and enjoy their breakfast of basted eggs on grilled tomato slices, cranberry scones, and rich locally grown coffee. Isabel has downloaded the video from their bodycams and the high-resolution cameras on their boat.

They chuckle as the events of their raid play out.

“Martha, I always mean to ask; what is your accent supposed to be? It sounds Irish, Cockney, and fake bad-movie pirate!”

“Whoa, MY bad accent? You have a lovely Spanish accent, so where did you get your ‘Speedy Gonzales’ pirate lingo from?”

“The ‘Cisco Kid’ and ‘Zorro’ on the television, where else? When I was a little girl, we had a channel that showed old American westerns. I thought that was how you spoke English if you were Spanish! My poor mother nearly died of shame. I did learn to speak properly later but I remembered the TV accent and I use it for our raids.”

“Watching our blog makes me think that we sound like two cartoon characters.”

“Ha! Which ones? ‘Mickey and Minnie’? ‘Tom and Jerry’? ‘Fred and Wilma’?”

“Enough! I think, my Spanish friend, you have had too much caffeine!”

“Si.”

When the video reached the point where macho boy got his close shave and fainted with the girlish sigh, Martha nearly spit her coffee out. “Oh, that is so good!” Martha cries. “That scene alone will boost our blog’s viewership by at least twenty per cent. Isabel, you are a genius with those cameras and microphones.”

“But Martha the blog was your idea. We have become ‘millonarios’ in no time at all. The advertising revenue is ‘fantastico’! Add that to the profit from a dozen ‘Paraiso Espanol Bistros’, we’ve set up throughout the Caribbean and we are wealthy. Now we have the fun too. We have ‘muchas aventuras’!

“We sure do … but now I need sleep.” Mumbled a stretching and yawning Martha. “I’m for bed.”

“Martha, how can you sleep in that giant pillow you call a bed?”

“Me? How can you sleep on that concrete slab you call a mattress?”

Both women laughed with an understanding that only sisters under the skin could appreciate.

“And Isabel don’t you dare wake me before noon. ‘Comprende’?”

“Si Madre! Ha.”

**********

Shortly after the sun had reached its zenith Martha leaves her casita and heads straight for the pool. Glancing at their shared office she returns Isabel’s wave. How her energetic partner got by on such limited sleep she’ll never know. Judging by the damp towel on the chaise, Isabel had already done her laps.

Churning through her hundred laps, Martha ponders why this was the only exercise she liked. She hates Yoga and Pilates and anything involving a gymnasium. She and Isabel have taken various martial arts courses for pragmatic reasons. But the other students, who would never use these skills, were too serious. The two ‘piratesses’ were viewed as ‘not committed’; just because they laughed and giggled and seemed to take gleeful joy in kicking and punching the stuffing out of their classmates. They’d even gone to Hollywood for three weeks of private training in sword, cutlass, and knife handling. They were surprised and encouraged by the fact that the stunt coordinator was a woman. Maybe the reason she liked swimming was simply because it was a full body workout that allowed her to zone out and meditate with no interruptions.

**********

Forty-five minutes later Martha boosts herself out of the pool and stands dripping in the warmth of the tropical sun. Isabel hands her a towel and announces that beer and snacks are ready. The two friends sit at one of the umbrella sheltered tables and share their light snack luncheon.

“Perfect, we have to leave room for Catharine’s ‘High Tea’ later this afternoon. Those little sandwiches and sweets are perfection.” Remarks Martha. “And she makes a perfect cup of tea. She professes that her son in law honed her brewing technique. He’s an English gentleman with the most fantastic green eyes. Or so she claims. We missed the big wedding while we were up north last summer.”

Isabel thinks for a moment, nods then recalls. “Of course, when we were opening the new restaurants on St. Thomas and St Croix. Seems like years, not months ago. That reminds me. Will we be going on our southern swing next week to check out our bistros? I’d like to give Paco the heads up. We haven’t seen each other in almost five weeks! I want to make sure he has the bed turned down and ready.”

“Isabel, you are positively wicked!” Both women share a quiet laugh.

“You are not the one to point fingers, the week after next we go north, and you will have your Henri.”

“We’re fortunate Isabel, to have two men who are married to their jobs. Both are definitely not domestic. Yet, they gladly make time for us and do a rather good job of satisfying our primal urges.”

‘Si, mi amiga. But what is best, si? They see us as women of accomplishment, equals and so we receive proper respect. This is as it should be and why I do not have to use my cutlass on Paco.” 

The laughter was now a little less demure!

**********

Martha and Isabel decide to take the 26’ walkaround, ‘Daut2’ for their trip to Honore and tea at ‘Catherine’s’. Standing offshore for a smoother ride will mean about an hour and a half trip to the capital city’s harbor. As they cruise at a comfortable thirty-five knots Isabel asks. “Martha, how much longer do you think we do this pirate business?"

“Well, we’re on the downside of the season, so I would estimate two or three more raids. We could go out every night with the number of leads the waitresses and hotel staff send to our website but that might be over-doing it a bit. We don’t want to get careless and get caught.”

“No, no I mean how many more years do we do this, my friend?”

“I don’t know, I never thought about it. Why, are you getting bored?”

“No, but we have been so far muy afortunado, have we not?”

“You’re quite right Isabel. We have been incredibly lucky that none of the ah, ah, what do you call them? ‘Los idiotas’?”

“Si, idiots, jerks, fools!”

“Right, that none of our targets have been armed or put up a fight. Plus, we have all the money we need to embark on a new venture. The word is out that the new governor has big plans to help the people of Saint Marie start up new micro businesses. That will require capital. And my friend, thanks to our blog and our restaurants; we have tons of capital. Instead of pirates, let’s become captains of industry instead! What do you say?”

“I say … Perfecto!”

**********

A few minutes later Isabel takes a tighter grip on the steering wheel, purses her lips and declares, “Martha, there is one more thing I would desire. On these last raids we do, let us go as mujer, women! It will be the final humiliation for all these hombres malos!”

“OK, but how do we pull it off without giving away our identity?”

“I have given much thought to this. First, we get the suit, ah you know, the suits el gato!”

“Isabel! Us? In cat suits? Well, I don’t know, we’re not exactly beach bunnies anymore!”

“Martha, who wants to be a bunny? We be lobos! We are trim! We are fit! I tell you how we do this. I look for these and Amazon has many. I get one that is dark red with yellow flames on the thighs. You get one in silver with blue ices on the shoulders. We wear our buccaneer knee high boots and a jerkin, you know, a leather vest buttoned tight at the waist and loose at the top to make the bosoms look big. We wear wigs, bandanas, and our sombrero grande con penacho, and masks like ‘el Zorro’. Blood red lipstick and fake nails like bloody claws to finish it. What do you think? Is it not the perfect costumes for ‘Fire and Ice’? Si?” 

“Isabel, you are a bloody genius! Our victims will be so distracted; they won’t know who we are! Brava! Mi amiga!”

“Ice, if we do this right, no one will even think to look at our faces!”

“Fire, as you would say, perfecto!”

Both women smile with satisfaction. They would end their pirate charade with brio and panache!

**********

Entering the Honore harbor, the ladies pick up a mooring buoy and wait for the tender to make its rounds and shuttle them to shore. There is a certain comfort in afternoon tea at Catherine’s that makes both Martha and Isabel feel at home.

“You know Martha, this is one strange place. At one end we have a very authentic English pub. At the other end is a very island Tiki Bar. And here we sit in the middle with white tablecloths, silver tea service and a table ready to collapse under the load of the marvelous treats of an English high tea. And to make it all perfect, the proprietress is French. It is madness, but perfect Saint Marie! No?”

Martha ponders a moment and smiles broadly. “This is our perfect madness. Besides, our children seem to visit us more often here, rather than Canada or Spain.”

“Si, esa es la verdad. Everyone likes to come to paradise.”

**********

“Isabel, look! By the entrance. That must be him!”

“Que? Ah Ah ... What?”

“The son-in-law with the green eyes, the perfect English gentleman that Catherine blathers on about so much. He is so serious, the frown, the suit, but look at those eyes. And, whoa, look at that extra crease in his trousers! Or is that just a shadow? Ha. ummmm … I wonder what he does besides looking yummy. He has a kind of solicitor or an accountant vibe going on.”

“Ahhh … Martha, it is most unfortunate that he is not one of the bad boys. We could give him a special pirate treatment. We could check the crease with much great care. Ha!”

“Not as men, we can’t, but I’m liking your cat-suit idea more and more. Do you think he could handle two lusty pirate wenches, Isabel? “

“Oh, mi amiga, I do think you just want to prove him to be not so perfect. Si? But ... I find something very, as you would say, compelling about him. The bearing, the attitude, the eyes, … the crease!”

This time the mutual laughter had a slightly wicked pirate tone to it.

**********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments - criticisms - complaints - suggestions - improvements - story ideas enthusiastically embraced! I make every effort to respond to all comments.  
> And yes, I do like 'purple prose', commas, quotation marks, exclamation points and kudos!  
> Aye, pirates be not gender specific! Harrrr! O/P


	9. 'Fire' and 'Ice' Part 4 of 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pirates! Cabal! The investigation goes deeper. The new Governor puts more pressure on the Team. Camille has a plan.

Chapter 9  
‘Fire’ and ‘Ice’  
Part 4 of 8  
**********  
Richard paces; the team watches. “Darn, darn, and double darn!” Camille looks bemused. Fidel smirks. Dwayne rolls his eyes and shakes his head. JP wide eyed, looks worried, as usual.  
“Richard? ….. Darn, darn, and double darn?”  
“Well bloody hell, Camille. You told me yesterday to watch my … my …. damn language.”  
Even JP joins in the laughter. Richard rapidly taps the white board with the pointer in exasperation. Camille removes the pointer from the Chief’s clenched fist. She suggests, “Sir, I do think we all could use an exceptionally good cup of tea. We’ve been at this for over two hours. And you do make the finest cup of tea this side of the Atlantic.  
“Quite so. Quite so Luv. … Ah. … Inspector.” Not a sound is heard. “Sorry team; but between these pirates, who I have never seen and our newly appointed Governor, who I now see far too often, I am about to go stark raving mad! You all relax, and I shall brew us a restorative cuppa.”  
**********  
“Chief? Why is it when you make a pot of tea, it tastes so much better? We use the same fixin’s, same water, same pot, same everthin’. I, Sergeant Dwayne M. Meyers want to know your secret!”  
Giving Dwayne a baleful stare over his steaming mug, Richard offers a succinct reply. “I’m English.”  
“Well then Chief what do we got ta do to get you to make the first pot of the day? Eh?”  
“Bringing these pirates to justice and get our bloody new governor off my bloody back; that might inspire negotiations concerning a certain morning elixir.”  
**********  
“Good morning team.”  
The officers all instantly snap upright to attention. JP wears a look of terror, Dwayne one of shock, Fidel concern, Camille stoic, and Richard, one of dread and resignation.  
“Oh, come now I’ve been called worse than ‘bloody new governor’. Sit, sit. I have new information that may be of assistance to your investigations. Richard old man, find a chair."  
Selwyn Patterson, newly appointed governor of the island of Saint Marie, resplendent in an immaculate white tropical suit, apricot shirt, floral tie, and white panama hat smiles benevolently at the assembled officers. Ambling with a grace that belies his size, he approaches Dwayne’s desk, picks up the interview chair and returns to the side of the room near Camille’s desk. They now form a near perfect circle.  
“I am most sorry that my ascension to high office, evil cabals, and now pirates have descended upon you all at once. But things may become a bit clearer with my information. Last night and early this morning I received two phone calls. One from Morland Holmes in London and the other from his son Sherlock in New York City. First, their sources have determined that the mysterious cabal and the Caribbean pirates are not involved in a conspiracy. Secondly, the cabal has been using the exploits of the pirates as a smoke screen to hide their own venture. They have been using the pirates as a handy device to discredit me and the Saint Marie police force. Weakening my office and your department, the cabal would then be able to bring unrelenting pressure on the island council and the town councils of Honore and Port Royal. Lastly, both father and son Holmes came up with the same name. A name that you all are familiar with.”  
Camille rocked back in her chair. “Sir Evene? Per chance?  
Richard went ridged and hisses, “Smythe-Mickle, that …. that …”  
“Precisely.” Asserts the governor. The Holmes’ are working on a money trail and other sources, so we can concentrate on our pirate problem. Now then, can you bring me up to speed Richard?”  
“Well sir, we have had virtually no cooperation from Interpol or any of the various other islands law enforcement entities. Our impression is that everyone wishes the whole pirate affair would just go away. We have been able to construct an MO for these buccaneers, and a motive of sorts. They are not your classic run of the mill marauders or privateers. They are more vigilantes. Dwayne, why don’t you lead off and tell the governor what you an JP have been able to find.”  
“Ah, er, ah, commissioner er, I mean governor, sir.”  
“You don’t have to stand Sergeant Myers.”  
“I think and talk best on my feet Guv er ah Governor.”  
“Guv is just fine Dwayne. Carry on.”  
“Well sir me and JP have been over the island from the swamps to the top of Mount Esmee. We been ‘round this whole island by boat. Once clockwise and then t’other way. The shoreline on the west and southside are almost a hunert per cent jungle. There could be a thousand coves and inlets ahide’n in there. We’ve traveled every single mile of road on Saint Marie. Nothin’! We even got some satellite maps and pictures from NASA. Another blank. Talked to every fisherman. Some say they mighta heard some big engines, but always way offshore. We put out a little bounty ta try an spark some interest.”  
“And what might that be, Sergeant?”  
“Ah, Gov umm it might be free drinks at ‘Catherine’s’ for a month, membe?  
“Yes Dwayne, incentives! JP do you have anything to add?”  
“Well, well” the sweat ran in rivers off the new officer’s face. “Dwayne and I thought that it might be … a … a bit difficult getting much cooperation from the locals ‘cause they see these pirates as kinda heroes who are lookin out for the gals. They're on their side sir.”  
“Really! I need to know more about these rather unusual pirates.”  
**********  
“Richard, it would appear these renegades have won the support of our people. How is this possible?”  
“Quite simply Governor, they are administering vigilante justice in a manner we cannot. Perhaps Camille can better enlighten you. Detective inspector?”  
Camille rose with a deliberation that revealed the seriousness of her first major presentation as head of the Honore Station. Moving around her desk and toward the various display boards, she assumed a posture of confidence and authority. Turning toward her colleagues she began; “Governor, we have documented twenty-four raids by our two pirates, Fire and Ice. They have a very precise and predictable MO. While their exact motive or motives are not known. We can assume, from their actions, that they seek vengeance.”   
“Inspector, you say their MO is exact. How do we know this?”  
“Amazingly Governor, every raid is well documented on video and audio. The pirates record their activities with body cams, and it would appear, rather sophisticated high-resolution cameras aboard the pirate vessel. These videos are posted on their web site and blog. The twenty-four videos record almost identical raids.”  
“Identical, inspector?”  
“Yes sir. They approach the target vessel at high speed. They circle and fire what appears to be twin fifty caliber antiaircraft guns above the victim’s heads. They then order the craft to ‘heave to’ and prepare to be boarded. In addition, they order ‘all hands-on deck’ and threaten the crew with sinking and death if anyone is found hiding below. Upon boarding, they go through a well-rehearsed and ritualistic performance. They take the victims wallets, passports and cell phones and throw them overboard. They leave the money from the wallets on the boat’s deck. They then verbally abuse the victims for the treatment of the women these scum, sorry sir, victims have encountered earlier. Then after a display of their cutlass skill, the smaller of he two pirates slashes an ‘F/I’ in some convenient upholstery. They proceed to demand the disrobing of their captives. If there is a reluctance, then they remove buttons with remarkable displays of swordsmanship. The clothes join the other personal effects in the ocean. Once naked, they receive a swift blow to the buttocks with the flat of the cutlasses and over the side they go.”  
“They drown them?”  
“No Governor, they let them cling to the transom or swim platform until they have exited the craft. I might add that the pirates have disabled the ship to shore radio and thrown the keys to the boat overboard. But these unique pirates do insure the safety of their victims. When they leave, they circle the disabled boat to make sure their prey are safely aboard and then they send a distress signal! So, as you can see, these pirates are not thieves. What they want is not money but punishment. They not only publish the videos to their own website, but they send copies to local law enforcement and the media outlets of the ‘participants’ hometowns. Thus family, friends, spouses are aware of their activities.”   
“Inspector, they have videos of these individual’s exploits that brought about the attacks?”  
“Yes sir, it seems that every waitress, barmaid, hotel maid and female service employee has become an informant for these buccaneers. Phone videos of improper behavior are uploaded to the pirate website by the hundreds. It seems that the ‘bad boys’ no longer can act with impunity. These are very unusual pirates, Governor. They are physically confrontational, high tech, and strangely moral and ethical.”  
“Ethical pirates?”  
“I think that Fidel has more technical information that will help explain my judgement. Fidel, why don’t you enlighten us with your discoveries.”  
“Yes ma’am, sorry, inspector. Well, the old rule is: ‘Always follow the money’. The Chief and Camille, er, the Inspector taught us to find out where the money was coming from or where it was going. In this case we had to go in both directions. The money is coming from advertising revenue on their website. As best we can figure, over the last three years they have become multi-millionaires. But now, where the money goes gets real tricky. The Chief Inspector was able to get us some expert help from New York City. Sherlock has some assistants that he calls his ‘irregulars’. One of them is a kid called Mason, who is only eighteen, but has a PHD in computer science. Mason did a deep dive into the ‘dark web’ and found some very odd info. The money from these ads goes into shell companies in various locations around the world. The money then gets funneled to numbered Swiss accounts. This is where it really gets weird. The shell companies have been paying taxes on their revenue! And then it appears that the Swiss accounts are paying funds to the revenue departs in Canada and Spain. So, Governor, it looks like these pirates are paying taxes on their exploits.”   
Selwyn rocks back in his chair. With an exasperated exhale and a shake of his head exclaims: “Just what I need, tax paying, good citizen pirates who the people of Saint Marie love and protect. Good grief. How do we find them? How do we catch them?”  
Slowly Richard rises and stands next to Camille and Fidel. Addressing the Governor, Richard begins, “Sir, I don’t have a solution, but Inspector Bordey has a plan. But it will require your cooperation.”  
“Anything, anyway I can be of assistance. We must put this pirate matter to rest as quickly and as quietly as possible.”  
“Governor Patterson, the plan I propose is quite simple. We do not have the cooperation of our Caribbean neighbors. We do not possess a fast enough vessel to catch the ‘Fire and Ice’. We do not have access to a high-speed helicopter. But we do have guile. We can’t go after the pirates, but maybe we can get them to come to us? … A trap. … But … we need bait. I understand that a certain public-spirited citizen on our fair island, is the owner of a fifty-foot sport fisherman. Were he to loan this craft for an undercover law enforcement operation, I am confident we could bring this case to a successful conclusion? We will also need four volunteers to serve the vital roles of ‘male chauvinist pigs’. Gentlemen?”  
There was a quiet, unison, male moan.  
“Gentleman?” The Governors single word is not a question, but a command. “Inspector Bordey, the ‘Simone’ is at your disposal, please try not to sink her. I like your plan, and I am confident that you’ll have the Team’s total support.”  
The Governor rises and removes his panama from Camille’s desk, places it upon his head at a rather jaunty angle. Smiling at his now standing officers he strolls casually toward the door remarking quietly;

“Carry on team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How will Camille implement her plan? Will the Team cooperate? Will the pirates cooperate........? Will the pirates strike again before the plan can be carried out?


	10. 'Fire' and 'Ice'    Part 5 of 8  The Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire and Ice finally meet an adversary who wants to fight. Can they handle being outnumbered? Will they emerge unscathed. Will wounds end their pirate career?

Chapter 10  
‘Fire’ and ‘Ice’  
Part 5 of 8  
**********  
The ‘Fire and Ice’ drove through the squall created chop like Moby Dick plunging for the Pequod. A beast on a mission not to be deterred. They were not after fools, drunks and jerks this time. They were after beasts and thugs. Four who had assaulted two young women and then nearly beat to death a seventy-year-old man who had come to the girl’s aid. These so-called men were about to meet their worst nightmare, two women who knew how to fight and win!  
Isabel at the helm and Martha on the throttles will their vessel to its maximum. Cresting a wave and becoming airborne, Martha eases the throttles to keep the engines from over revving. As the 'Fire and Ice' crashes back into the sea, Martha jams the throttles to full power, and they drive on through the night at nearly seventy knots. North of the squall line the sea calms and they push their boat to the max.  
“Mi amiga, is it not strange how I am the one making you calm? You are the one who tells to me to be calm, be the control one eh?”  
“Yes Isabel, things are a bit different tonight. I thank you, just the sound of your voice in the headphones helps keep me under control and focused. Tonight, we are not just dealing with arrogant twits. These four tried to rape those young women. Then they beat that courageous old man. These are criminals that we hunt. …… We’ll have to make sure the old man gets the best of care.”  
“Si, he is ‘hombre valiente’. But first we must bring those … those ‘bastardos’ to ‘justcia’!”  
“Right, you are my friend. Tonight, there will be a reckoning. Those four will go to prison. Justice will be served.”  
**********  
This was not the perfect night or circumstance for a raid. The gibbous moon would be near its zenith and the intercept point would be less than twenty miles from land. But tonight, was not about a new video for the website, this was about evil and justice. Pulling the throttles back to idle the ‘Fire and Ice’ coasts to a halt. The women consult the radars; it appears that they have the sea all to themselves. Normally they would run down on their prey at highspeed. This tactic usually proves to be as intimidating as the twin 50s they mount in the rear cockpit. But tonight, they wait, like a moray eel, ready to spring from its lair. They turn off their radars and the navigation lights. They are all but invisible. And they wait.  
The miscreants are not so lucky. Their boat stands out like the proverbial sore thumb. When they left the dock at the marina, they never saw the dock boy slip a tracking device in the engine compartment air intake vent, as he untied the mooring lines. Their boat was now sending real time data to the pirates’ smart phones. The party boys with fresh longnecks in hand were about to receive a rather rude interruption to their festivities.  
“Isabel, what are you showing on your phone.”  
“I have them bearing zero two five degrees true at thirty kph at about four miles, ETA eight minutes.”  
Martha lifted the night vision binoculars with the built-in compass and had the vessel in sight almost immediately. “Gotcha, you SOBs!”  
“Do you think they can see us Martha?”  
“Not a chance! These idiots have their trim tabs set wrong so they’re running bow high. They can’t see what’s up a head. And they have all the cockpit, flybridge, and cabin lights on full. So, none of them has any night vision. I would guess they’ve got the tunes turned up full blast. They probably won’t hear us coming either. What a bunch of … of … of …”  
“Pendejos?”  
“Yes, what you said. Let’s get the last of our gear on. We’ve got five minutes.”  
**********  
The ‘Fire and Ice’ is up on the plane doing about thirty knots, closing bow on to their quarry. Martha is at her usual station with the twin fifties and Isabel is at the helm. Isabel glances back at Martha, they each nod. Isabel jams the throttles, cuts hard to the right and back left to pass portside to portside. Instantly Martha fires three short bursts from the fifties. Circling the targeted boat Isabel uses the loud hailer to command. “Heave to, … shut down your engines, … all hands on deck.” Instead, their prey bears off to the left and increases its speed. Isabel matches their speed, pulls a few feet away and edges forward until Martha and the fifties are next to the boat’s driver. Martha waves, driver sees, driver stops boat. The ‘Fire and Ice’ slowly circles their catch. Isobel brings the two boats together and secures them with a single mooring line.  
As Isobel/Isa/Fire boards the captive vessel the largest of the four blurts, “What the hell! It’s a broad!” Without reply Fire goes below to do her normal check. Returning on deck, she is joined by Martha/Sweeps/Ice.  
“It is all clear, but it stinks of stale beer and piss. These are no men they are ‘cerdos’, as you say pigs!”  
“Hey watch yer tongue gerly. I donne never let nobody err talk to me da way.” The drunken slur of the largest and seeming leader of the four captives matches the red watery eyes of his companions. He steps forward to emphasize his point but is met with Ice’s cutlass tip under his chin.  
“When I want you to talk, I’ll let you know. Now step back.”  
“No way bitch!”  
“Wrong answer.”  
Ice’s cutlass flashes, and the flat of the blade smashes the left ear of the obstinate miscreant. As he lurches toward Ice, the blunt back of her blade gives his knee a good crack. With the tip of her blade under his chin again and a very gentle push, he hops back in line with his fellows.  
Fire joins her partner and declares, “That one with the big mouth he can be number one and then the next is two and then three and four.”  
“Hey 'chiquita', we got names.” Spits number four.  
“No nino, names are for humans, maybe even pets, but not for criminal pigs. You get numbers just like you will get in ‘la carcel’.  
In a flat emotionless voice, bereft of all phony pirate dialect, Ice issues the standard orders:  
“I want wallets, phones, and passports on the deck. Now. ………. Now! … Not a word. … Not a sound.”  
The men seem frozen, mesmerized, like mice before a cobra. Fire ambles toward #4, closest to her and with a flick of her wrist, her cutlass slices open his bulging rear pocket. His wallet drops to his feet. As if awaking, the four are suddenly are searching pockets for the demanded items. As the personal effects hit the deck, Fire sweeps them into a heap. She then extracts the cash, photographs the IDs and passports. With a ceremonial flourish Fire stuffs phones, wallets, and passports in the ubiquitous mesh bag. Picking up the wad of cash, she announces, “Ninos pequenos. We do not keep the money, but … but … in this case, we make exception. This is over five thousand US, you are the rolling high ones, si? This we take to help the old man who the mucho macho pigs beat.” She stuffs the cash in her jerkin pocket. Stabbing the bag of valuables with the tip of her cutlass, Fire flips the bag over the transom. The four men let loose with a primal growl.  
Ice rolls her eyes and responds with a sarcastic laugh. “Oh dear, Fire, I do believe we have annoyed the boys.”  
“Si, Ice they are most upset. I think that they will be even more so soon, no?”  
“Do you mean when we make them get all naked?”  
“Si. I think maybe they are more boy than man maybe?”  
“You can go to hell!” This outburst came from #3.  
“Yah, you’re real mouthy hiding behind a shotgun and a machete.” Chimed in #2.  
**********  
Ice looks to Fire with raised eyebrows and a small smirk. Both nod. Driving the tips of their cutlasses into the deck they both snap the shotguns into the holsters, unbuckle the belts and heave them back into the ‘Fire and Ice’. Regaining the cutlasses, they turn and touch tips and then toss them into their boat. They turn back to find four leering men.  
“Well little ladies you ready for some real men? That is after we teach you some manners!”  
Both women laugh.  
“Fire smirks, “What would these pigs know about manners?”  
“You two don’t know when to shut up? Do you? In case you didn’t notice, it’s four to two.” The new voice of the four was #2.  
Ice’s laugh was now a sinister chuckle. “Well Fire, do we flip a coin to see which one of us goes back to our boat so this will be a fair fight?” Both smile. Rage coupled with arrogance and alcohol always produces … stupid. The pirates spread apart.  
Number one shouts, “NOW!”

**********  
The battle begins.  
**********  
The four charge toward the two pirates. Ice dodges to her left. She deftly kicks # 1 in his previously bruised knee, this causes him to lose his balance and stumble into # 2. Both crash to the deck. Ice spinning around behind the fallen foe, places a well-aimed kick between the legs of #1. The intense pain forces the air out of his lungs as he collapses soundlessly. Number 2 has rolled over to escape the pileup. Flat on his back, legs spread, all Ice has to do is stomp. His eyes bulge, his mouth works around a scream and nausea. Clutching his crotch, #2 rolls toward #1 and promptly throws up on him. This induces #1 to punch #2 and the two rolled about in a rather disgusting display of male mindless violence. A bemused Ice watches, then withdraws her extendable steel baton and renders the two a few minutes of unconsciousness. Looking to her partner, she sees Fire standing over #3 and #4. Both adversaries are face down and also unconscious.  
“Well, that was quick! What did you do to them?”  
“They charge like toros. I grab two handsfull of their hairs and I bump the cabezas together. They go down like baby cows. Do I get two ears and the tails? Hahahaha!”  
Through her own laughter, Ice asks Fire, “Check those lockers, see if there is a wash down hose. These guys are a mess.”  
“Si, mi amiga, I think this one he has piss in his pants.”  
The two buccaneers set to cutting the clothing from their four immobilized captives. Stripped, and hosed down, the four stagger to their feet and are herded like cattle to the portside rail. They receive the customary cutlass smack and a dip in the Caribbean Sea. Cries of ‘I can’t swim’ and ‘don’t leave us to the sharks produce even increased disgust from Fire and Ice.  
“We should leave them, they are muy stupido.  
“No Fire, even the sharks have better taste.” With venom in her voice Ice addresses the four swimmers. “Come on scum, we want you to live so you can go to prison. Oh, bye the bye we have borrowed about six feet of your ignition wire and a couple of feet of fuel line. So, sit back and wait for the police. …… Your rescuers. …… Your fun is done!”  
Clambering back into the ‘Fire and Ice’ the pirates detach and begin their customary circle of their prey. Reaching the stern, they find all four have scrambled aboard and are frantically searching the cockpit.  
“They’re looking for weapons.” Ice snaps.  
Fire brings their boat stern to stern with the other boat. “Ice, reverse.”  
“What?”  
“We give them bath, no?”  
“Yes, but?”  
“Now we give to them a most fine shower!”  
“Oh, I see.” Smirks Ice. “Reverse it is.”  
They back down to the other boat.  
“Now, trim up.”  
Ice trims the four 600 hp engines to the full ‘up’ position and shifts to forward.  
“Full throttle!” shouts Fire.  
The 'Fire an Ice' wallows forward with her bow pointed toward the sky. She kicks a monstrous rooster tail of water into the cockpit and on the inhabitants of the disabled boat. As the four criminals flounder, Fire commands, “Trim down.” Ice complies and the ‘Fire and Ice’ rockets off into the night. Echoing from the loudhailer comes the sarcastic, “Adios amigos. Buenas noches. Ha!”  
**********  
As they fly across a glassy sea to home. The two friends ride in silence. Martha brakes the spell. “Isabel, I am so angry. I enjoyed hurting those four. That’s wrong. We should have tied them up and left them for the authorities.”  
“Si, but they are the kind who do not understand justice. They only know winning and losing. Tonight, they lost. That, they will understand. That they will remember. Later they will be in court and think that they are the victims. But tonight, they lost to two women. Two women who no hombre treats bad. No?”  
“You are right my friend. Now, home, we have videos to post. Criminals to expose!”

  
Home, Saint Marie!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The team prepares the trap. Governor Patterson needs the pirate problem solved NOW!


End file.
